Summer Rains
by Emmithar
Summary: An accident leaves Greg struggling to remember who he once was as well as where he belongs in the world around him as the rest of the CSI team works together to stop a deadly serial killer before they lose one of their own.
1. Default Chapter

**Summer Rains**

**By: **Emmithar

**Rating: **T (Might go up later in the story)

**Summary: **An accident leaves Greg struggling to remember who he once was as well as where he belongs in the world around him as the rest of the CSI team works together to stop a deadly serial killer before they lose one of their own.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own CSI, the characters, or locations that show up in this story, aside from original characters.

**A/N: **This is the third story in my first series, I hope that makes sense. If you want to read the stories in order, they go as follows; **Just a Quick Stop; Cold as Ice; Summer Rains. **For those of you who have read everything in order, for as to what happens with Tom, I'll try and get a little more about him in the following chapters, I was really vague about it here. But as I like to say, 'no promises'. I have to see how the story pans out.

This story here has a lot of angst, heavy more so mentally rather than physically. I'm going to announce now that even though I'm a lab tech, I am not a medical genius, but I am doing my best, so if you see any errors, point them out nicely.

* * *

**Chapter One: Serial **

Greg let out a long unbroken sigh as he turned the engine off. His arms were folded across the steering wheel as he sat in the seat, staring out at the building in front of him. It felt good to be back again. Glancing over he smiled to himself, watching Sara sleep next to him, her head resting against the window, muttering something.

"Wake up Sara, we're here," he told her, reaching over and shaking her awake.

She waved him off, opening her eyes some. "I'm awake already," she muttered, yawning.

Greg laughed, climbing out of the car, watching as she rubbed her forehead. Sara pushed the door open, making her way towards Greg, who was waiting for her under the covering. Sara glanced up at the sky with a short frown, turning her head away from the light drops of rain that fell from above.

Pushing past Greg, the two entered the building, Sara pushing her hair from her face once they were out of the wind. "This," she stated calmly to him, "is the last time I'm wearing a skirt."

Greg smiled as they entered the locker room, setting his bag down on the bench. "You look nice in a skirt though," he prompted.

He heard her scoff, turning to watch as she unbuttoned the blouse, reaching for a new shirt inside her own locker. "That's nice," she muttered sweetly, "these heels are killing me." She kicked them off to prove her point as she pulled on a clean shirt.

"I still can't believe that happened," Sara complained, sitting down on the bench. "I've never been more embarrassed."

Greg scooted closer to her, rubbing her upper back soothingly. "Don't worry," he told her, a hint of mirth playing in his eyes. "I'm sure the judge understood.'

"Oh yeah," Sara commented sarcastically, "I'm sure he has people tripping and falling in his lap all the time."

A slight cough from the doorway redirected their attentions as Warrick entered the room. "There are other ways to win the judge's favor, but you added a nice touch, so I hear."

Sara shook her head, rolling her eyes at the same time as she pulled out a pair of pants. "So what? The entire lab knows what happened?"

Warrick shrugged, leaning against the wall. "Not everyone…Hodges doesn't know, not yet anyways."

Sara groaned, buttoning her pants as she stood. "It won't take him long either. Remind me how he got here?"

Both Greg and Warrick laughed softly, leaving Sara to roll her eyes. "Men," she exasperated, wrapping her arms around Greg's shoulders from behind as she gave him a quick kiss before straitening up. "I'm going to catch Grissom, see what's going on around here."

Warrick nodded, speaking up as she walked by, "Catherine and I are heading out to lunch here in a few, you guys want to come?"

"I'm in," Greg announced quickly. "We haven't eaten since leaving Portland; that is such a long drive."

Sara nodded in agreement, before leaving the room. Warrick turned his attention back to Greg as the young man started changing into fresh clothes himself. "How'd it go?" he wondered.

Greg rolled his eyes, "He pleaded insanity. It actually wouldn't surprise me."

"Honestly?" Warrick wondered, "Even though he admitted to all those killings?"

Greg sighed, shaking his head. "Who knows? As long as he's going away I guess."

Warrick nodded, "Yeah…Well I have something that will make the two of you feel a lot better though."

"Yeah?" Greg wondered, closing his locker before moving to pull on his tennis shoes. "What's that?"

"Your friends, from the convenience store robbery, we found them."

Greg glanced up at him quickly, "Mando and Stitch?" he muttered quietly, before raising his voice, "Alive?"

Warrick shook his head, "Nope, a rescue team doing practice rounds came across them in the desert, notified us. We got the results back yesterday. They never made it out of the desert."

Greg nodded, moving towards the door. He stopped next to Warrick, giving him a small smile. "Well, that's one chapter that's finished."

Warrick patted him on the back, "You two really need to stay out of trouble," he joked lightly.

Greg only rolled his eyes as he left the room, "Lunch?" he asked, turning back to him.

"At two," Warrick informed him, "just heading down the street, nothing fancy."

Greg waved him off, grinning, "Don't care, food is food."

* * *

Grissom took one last glance at the group before them, glad to have Sara and Greg back. Night shift had been pulling heavy for some time now, but both of them had finally opted to go back out into the field. Turning back around, Grissom cut the lights turning of the overhead projector.

A picture of woman flashed on the screen. She was bound and gagged, her eyes closed but it was clear she was still alive, able to hold her head up some. At the bottom of the picture, written in ink read 'Marie Daniels, 23 years of age.'

Greg shook his head as his eyes scanned the screen, no one was talking yet, and the silence was eerie. Greg could only stare at her, his eyes drawn the victim's own, even though they were closed, it was still disturbing.

"Marie Daniels, 23 years old, worked for a publishing company. We received this picture in the mail, with fingerprints and blood samples of the victim. The next day, several body parts came in from an unknown source, but after running them, they were a match to our vic. The following day, we found her body, stuffed in a dumpster."

"And we know nothing else?" Greg wondered, looking up at Grissom.

Grissom didn't say anything back, only clicked the small remote button and the picture changed, another women, older this time, but very much in the same state. "Gloria Espon, 34 years of age. Same routine, came in the mail, we received several fingers the following day, and the next, her body showed up, once again in a dumpster."

He turned back to the group, leaning against the chair. "Ecklie has both shifts working on this as of now. Nick interviewed potential witnesses."

Nick nodded, sitting up as he took the lead, "There was no one who actually saw either abduction of either one, and so far, we haven't found any connection between them. Different sides of town, they had no relation, didn't know each other, weren't involved in any clubs or groups. Physical appearance is difference, age, religion."

"So we have a random serial killer?" Greg wondered. "But there is a link between all serial killings, there's something they go after, something that gets them off."

"True," Warrick answered him, "but sometimes it's just the killing itself that gets them off. Although we still think there is a relation between the killings, we just haven't found it."

"So, whoever gets taken, is tortured then killed two days later?" Sara said slowly, shaking her head. "But why send in DNA and everything else? What point does that make?"

Grissom sighed, taking a seat at the front. "It means that whoever is doing this is playing a game, like a cat toys with a mouse before eating it. There isn't a difference here."

He looked back up at the screen as it shut off, Catherine switching the lights on in back before moving to take a seat with the rest of the group. "The bodies were shaved clean of hair, and then bathed in bleach," she added with a heavy sigh.

"Which means any blood work or trace is destroyed," Warrick nodded, clicking the pen he held in his hand. "We got our work cut out for us."

"Any questions?" Grissom asked, looking around the group. When no one said anything he nodded. "Let's get to work then," he glanced to Sara and Greg, obtaining their attention a moment longer. "You two can handle this?"

Sara nodded quickly, but it took Greg a moment to catch what he said. He nodded along side Sara, but was unable to bring about a vocal response.

"We've been working in the field for a month now, we're fine," Sara told him as she pushed her chair back. A single strand of hair fell in front of her eyes, the rest of her hair pulled back into a tail. She glanced down at Greg, waiting for him to say the same, but he only nodded again as he stood up next to her.

"If you can't handle it," Grissom lowered his voice so that only the two would hear. "Just let me know, don't be afraid to do so. It's taken you a while to get back out here, and I'd rather not lose you over this, alright?"

"Yeah," Greg muttered, speaking for the first time. He glanced up at the clock, biting his lip as he turned back, "We still get break?" he wondered quietly.

Grissom shrugged, his face a little tense as he answered. "Is it really necessary?"

"A little hungry," Greg held his index finger and thumb apart for emphasis. "We haven't eaten since this morning. We were going to go at two, but with the meeting with Ecklie and this right after…" he trailed off as Grissom nodded.

"Go get something, but don't be too long. Every minute counts here, understand?"

Both Greg and Sara nodded quickly, pausing as Grissom walked past. Sara jerked her head to the side as she glanced at him. "We'll hit the Deli," she told him. "Its right next door, and it's affordable."

**TBC**


	2. Questions

**Chapter Two: Questions**

Greg made sure to don a mask before pushing past the doors that led down into the morgue. The ever-present smell of rotting flesh made him wish that he hadn't just finished eating. Swallowing, he nodded to Robbins who waved him over quickly. Greg proceeded at much slower rate though, glancing over the body that was laid flat on the metal surface.

"Tell me what you see," Robbins told him, taking a step back to look up at him.

Greg closed his eyes as he tried to compose himself. He had hoped that Robbins wouldn't do this. He was hoping that the body had already been washed and put away, and that Robbins would just hand him the samples he needed, and mention anything out of the ordinary.

With a sigh he turned his attention back to the table, his eyes trailing down the form. "Fingers are severed, right below the knuckles, no noticeable hair, bruising and cuts around the wrists and ankles. Various bruising," he coughed, pressing a hand against the mask as the smell lingered strongly. It was a mix of bleach and rotting flesh, the victim's skin had turned yellow.

"That's the most fascinating," Robbins said, motioning down towards the victims legs. "No signs of sexual assault."

"That rules out the possibility the attacker knew his victims on a personal level," Greg pointed out.

"Only on some levels," Robbins nodded, reaching over to grab the woman's arm, twisting it over. "You see those there," he pointed to the junction on the elbow.

"Needle pricks," Greg looked up at him, "Possibility of poisoning?"

The tox for the first victim came up negative, and I've already sent a sample up here, but both victims are fairly equivalent in appearance. The bruising around the arms and ankles are the same, suggest that the same place was used to kill both of them. Now the fingers were severed before death, we were unable to tell with the first victim, the bleach did a lot of damage."

Greg winced, rubbing his own fingers at the thought. Having a broken hand had hurt enough; he couldn't even begin to imagine how much having them cut off would hurt. He grimaced as Robbins began to peel back the flesh near the hands, and Greg took a step back.

"You uh, have anything else for me?" Greg asked quickly, looking away from the body.

"More samples on the table," the doctor nodded to him, laughing slightly at his greened expression.

Greg nodded, picking them up quickly. "Good, I think I'm beginning to taste that tuna sandwich from earlier," he made a face.

"You still have the pickle?" Robbins called to him as Greg started to make his way out.

"It's in the fridge upstairs, help yourself." He pushed past the doors quickly, leaning against the far wall heavily as he tore the mask off, taking in a few deep breaths. His gaze turned towards the ceiling as he worked to compose himself, his stomach twisting and turning.

"Hey, anyone up for pizza?" Nick's voice suddenly filled the hallway, and it was then Greg lost it, the simple thought of food fully turning his stomach into a heave.

Greg glared at him as he wiped his mouth clean, still using one hand to support himself against the wall. The other man was laughing slightly as he came up next to him, patting him on the back.

"I'll take that as a no?"

"Thanks Nick," Greg muttered, "It's really nice knowing that I have someone around her to count on for sympathy."

"Hey, what else are friends good for?" Nick asked, leaning against the wall next to him. "Smell's pretty bad in there doesn't it?"

Greg frowned, straightening up. "You knew, didn't you?"

"Worked the first one," Nick shrugged, looking towards the closed door.

"So you didn't say anything to me?"

"And ruin all my fun?" Nick laughed, turning towards him. "Why would I do something like that?"

Greg coughed again, wiping his mouth as he made his way up the hall. "Sounds like you," he muttered pushing his way into the small bathroom, collecting several paper towels. He threw several of them at Nick as he came back out in the hallway. The Texan caught them, a look of surprise on his face.

"What do you want me to do with this?" he asked uncertainly.

Greg's smile was smug as he crouched down. "You helped make the mess you can help clean it up."

* * *

He hadn't realized how long he had been there until Sara came in to say goodnight. Rubbing his eyes with a single hand he fought off a yawn as he glanced up at the clock. They had gotten back at the lab at ten at night, and it was now eleven thirty on the next night. Since then they had only taken one lunch break, the same one he had gotten sick off, and had only a few short coffee breaks.

"It's that time already?" Greg muttered, finishing the coffee that sat by the computer screen. It was cold, had been for the last few hours, but it was really the only thing that had kept him going for this long.

Sara nodded, sitting down next to him, scruching her nose. "Wow, you stink," she made another face, covering her nose.

"Thanks," Greg muttered, laughing softly. "I wasn't the one who spent most of my time outdoors in the nice sun. I got the privilege of watching Robbins perform autopsies instead."

"Ohh, sounds like fun," she teased lightly, resting her arms on the table. "What are looking at?"

Greg sighed, reaching over to shut the computer down. "Nothing at the moment, I was looking through several different urban legends. Since we have no connections between the victims yet, I was thinking maybe our killer was inspired by stories."

"Any luck?" Sara wondered, watching as Greg stretched. He shook his head, rubbing his eyes again.

"None, not yet anyways, but I'm out of here for the night too."

"You want to stop anywhere, get something to eat?" Sara wondered, following him out into the hallway.

"I can't exactly go anywhere smelling like this," Greg pointed out, moving into the locker room. "I have some stuff at home I'll just throw together."

"I didn't know you could cook," Sara teased, leaning against the wall as Greg changed from his lab coat into his regular one.

"I'm resourceful," Greg looked up at her, "Besides, it's not that hard to make some soup."

He closed his locker, clocking out as they made their way towards the exit. Sara said another quick goodbye as she climbed in her own car, pulling out of the parking lot by the time Greg reached his own car.

The drive to the apartments wasn't very long. He and Sara, though driving separate cars, had moved in together, living in his apartment. The decision had been made a few months back, shortly after returning from Oregon, and so far, things had been going good. In Greg's opinion, things couldn't be going better.

**TBC**


	3. Moving Closer

**Not too long, surprised I even wrote tonight. It's surprising, how much training wears you out. You don't do anything, besides talk a lot, and observe to make sure she's doing everything correctly. I spent most of the morning training her, and then ran machines for a few hours, then did more training to finish off the day. I still have two more days to get through as well...lol**

**

* * *

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**Chapter Three: Moving Closer**

"Are you ever coming to bed?"

Greg looked up from where he sat, resting his elbows on the table as he leaned forward. "I won't be much longer," he yawned, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. He blinked as he turned to the computer screen once again, using the mouse to scroll down as he read.

Sara let out a sigh, moving from her original place in the doorway to venture further in the room. "You said that an hour ago Greg," she frowned, coming up behind him. "You're not working on the case still are you?"

Greg shrugged, still reading even as she leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "You just can't stay up all day," she chided him softly, resting her head against his. "You've been up for the last two days now, this isn't healthy."

Greg couldn't help but grin, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes as he wrapped one hand around hers, squeezing gently. "This coming from a workaholic like you?" he wondered lightly.

"Takes one to know one," she responded, closing her eyes. "Come to bed Greg, we have to be up in a few hours anyways."

"I know…," he muttered quietly, leaning forward. She noted the change in his demeanor, and she pulled back enough so that she could honestly look at him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Greg answered, attempting to shrug it off, but knowing Sara, once she saw something, she would never let up until she knew what was behind it. It was the reason why she was so good at her job.

"Greg," her voice was calm, and at the same time, demanding as she sat down next to him. "Talk to me, what's on your mind?"

He turned towards her, watching her for a moment before glancing at the floor. "I don't know…I just can't…" he bit his lip, trying to find the right words. "All this that's happening, to these people. It's not right."

Sara nodded in quiet agreement, folding her hands together. "No, it's not. That's why we do what we do, so that we can help stop things like this from happening again."

"It's already happened to two people Sara, and I can't rest knowing that it might be happening to someone else. I can't…what's wrong with me?"

Sara couldn't help but smile; it wasn't exactly appropriate timing, or the best support that she could give, but the way he had asked had been humoring.

Reaching out she patted him on the back, smiling still. "Nothing," she reassured him, "You're human, it's natural."

He yawned again after that, covering his mouth with a hand as he did so. Sara gave him a reassuring smile as she took his other hand. "Come on, get some sleep, you'll feel much better when you wake up, and we can get back to work with fresh minds."

Greg didn't move at first, but finally he reached over, turning the monitor of with one press of a button. Normally he didn't leave it up when he wasn't using it, but as of now, he wasn't going to wait for it to shut down.

He followed Sara into the bedroom, taking only a moment to change into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before crawling under the covers next to her. The place was small for the both of them, but they had been managing nicely, all the while searching for a bigger place to move into. A house, maybe, if they could ever find a good enough deal.

Though the more practical idea would be to move into a larger apartment, since buying a house would mean they would have to start over from the beginning, and Greg seriously doubted that they would have enough money for all of that.

Still, all of it seemed a little unreal. It had been nearly two years since they had been taken hostage at the store. Sara had been little more than relieved to hear that Mando and Stitch were in fact dead. Greg sighed inwardly, resting on his back as he stared up at the ceiling. He was fairly certain that Sara had wanted to see them put in jail. Honestly, he wanted the same thing. Now he felt like he had been cheated once again now that Tom had been taken to an insane asylum. He knew that Sara hadn't been happy about that either.

The trail lasted nearly a week, and even though Sara and Greg had testified, along with Randolph, the jury had ignored their comments. It was on the last day when he began to rant about the murders and describe them in grueling detail that the judge declared him insane, and to be locked up for treatment. There was no telling how long he would be in there.

Next to him, Sara rolled so that she was facing him, and expected her to scold him for worrying so much. Therefore he was relieved to find that she was asleep. He watched her sleep for a minute before looking back up towards the ceiling.

About two months after coming back from the seminar, Sara's mood had suddenly changed. She had become irritable, snappy and overall impossible to work with at times. A few days later he had found her crying in the locker room, and fearing the worst, he had sat down next to her, trying to find a way to comfort her.

He had honestly thought she was pregnant. She had been having major mood swings lately, and her appetite changed constantly. Some days she would eat on and off all day long, while others she would blow off a dinner date with no apparent reason except that she wasn't hungry. It was surprising, but not unexpected. They were always careful, but even with all the precautions, it didn't mean that it was impossible.

_"Are you?" he had asked._

_She nodded shortly after a moment, wiping her tears away. "Yeah," she swallowed, looking up at him. "What am I going to do?"_

_Greg sighed, hanging his head slightly as he bit his lip. "Well…there's not much that can be done," he glanced back up at her._

_"How did you find out?" Sara wondered, sniffing._

_"I sort of guessed," Greg admitted, "but hey, look on the bright side. This is kind of exciting, even if it is a bit scary."_

_"How is it exciting?" Sara asked, her voice becoming edgy as she looked at him._

_He shrugged, suddenly feeling very out of place. Still, he needed to let Sara know that he was there for her, and willing to support their child when it was born. He would manage somehow. "Well," he mumbled, "it's a new life. That alone is exciting."_

_Sara laughed grimly. "I'm glad you put it in perspective," she stated sarcastically. "This is serious," she told him, standing as she did so._

_He stood up as well, holding his hands out to his side. "I know that Sara, all I'm saying is that we'll find a way through this."_

_She shook her head. "That's kind of you, but I can't ask for your help."_

_Greg raised an eyebrow as she walked past. "It's my responsibility too," Greg told her, "You can't just shut me out."_

_That statement stopped her, and she turned back around to face him. "How is it your responsibility?"_

_Greg didn't say anything at first; he was at a loss for words. How was getting her pregnant his responsibility? Was she really asking him this? "Well…you didn't exactly do it all on your own," he muttered after a moment, confusion clearly written on his face._

_"Yeah…" Sara said slowly. "I've been behind on my rent payments ever since they raised it. I'm being evicted tonight, and I have absolutely nowhere to stay. It could be months before I find another place, and frankly, I don't think I can afford to stay in a hotel every night."_

_"Evicted?" Greg blurted out, sitting down quickly._

_Sara nodded, watching him. "Are you okay?" she asked, concern filling her as she watched him._

_Greg nodded after a moment, looking up at her. "I thought you were pregnant," he said shakily, embarrassed as he mentioned it._

_Next to him, Sara sat down quickly too, her hands resting in her lap. Nothing was said at the moment, and finally Sara risked breaking the silence._

_"You know…we really need to work on our communication skills," she told him quietly._

_Greg laughed, agreeing quickly. He felt a little better now, and Sara was starting to look less pale as well. "You could stay with me," he said, watching her initial reaction._

_"Greg, I can't…" she answered, "I can't force you out of your place just because I didn't do anything sooner."_

_He reached over, placing a hand on top of hers. "I want you to."_

Greg smiled fondly at the memory, remembering how she had finally said yes. At first they acted as if Sara was just a friend staying the night. But as time passed, and they became closer, the move had become permanent. Shortly after the talk of obtaining a larger residence had come about.

Greg wasn't quite sure of the change, but he was willing to try, for Sara's sake at least. After all he had lived in this place for the last six years now; it was his home. He loved Sara more than anything he had ever known. He wondered lightly if Sara felt the same the way, but he didn't dare press the matter, the simple fear of her pulling away being to real.

He turned back so that he was watching her, and smiled to himself. She was only a few inches away from his face, and he rolled over so that he was completely facing her, leaning in to kiss her forehead briefly, running a hand through her hair. When she stirred he was afraid he had woken her, but within the next second she was still again. Resting his forehead against hers, he closed his eyes, wishing that he could hold this moment forever as he finally gave into the weariness that encumbered his body.

**TBC**


	4. Understand Me

**Four days till the Season Finale!**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Understand Me**

"How much do you think we'd get off them?"

Sara closed her eyes, squeezed them painfully tight as she hung her head. It wasn't supposed to be like this, this wasn't supposed to be happening. Her heart raced wildly, and it was hard to breathe, so hard. She wanted to keep them closed, wanted to pretend everything was all right.

Opening them again she could see the fear, the desperation in his eyes. Those eyes that stared back at her, pleading with her to do something as she looked away. Her grip was tight on the gun; it felt as though the weapon would break at any second from the inconceivable pressure.

She had remembered, one time, years ago, how she had declared that she would never be able to take another human's life. She had said it without thought, without contemplation. If she had only known then that she would have to face this, her answer would have been different.

Opening her eyes one last time she was shocked to find herself staring down the barrel of one gun, another pressing to her head. Greg now stood in front of her, a gun trained not on her, but on her assailant that stood above her. Greg was bleeding heavily, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he locked eyes with her, pleading once again. Before she could do anything, she watched in horror as Greg turned the gun on himself, pulling the trigger.

A loud explosion, a burst of light, and Greg fell down lifelessly as she began to struggle, began to pull away, but with little success. Her attacker dropped the gun, holding her wrists down to prevent her from swinging her arms wildly. He was calling her name, holding her down as she struggled even more.

Opening her eyes suddenly she found herself encumbered by the darkness; there was someone right next to her, holding her wrists together with one hand, the other smoothing the hair out of her eyes, the fingers running down her face to dry her tears.

"It's okay," Greg whispered, still holding her wrists gently. "It's okay Sara, it's just a dream."

Sara let out a shaky breath as she tried to compose herself. She was trembling in his arms, her heart still racing even as he held her, and told her everything would be okay. Suddenly she started to pull away from him, and the harder she tried to get away, the stronger his hold became on her.

"I got to go," she muttered quickly, still scooting away from him.

Greg tried to reach around her to pull her back, shaking his head. "Sara no, stay here," he was pleading with her, but part of him knew that it was stupid to do so.

Rolling over she kicked the covers off as she staggered quickly towards the bathroom. Greg sighed in frustration as he let his head drop back on the pillows, listening quietly as she began to heave through the closed door. He waited for a minute before getting out of bed himself, pushing the door open slowly.

Running a washcloth under the faucet he handed it off to Sara who sat huddled against the wall, next to toilet. She muttered a weak thanks, and he could see that she was still trembling. Kneeling down in front of her, he let his hands drop on her knees, rubbing her legs comfortingly.

"We need to talk about getting you some help," he said after a moment, knowing that it was a dangerous subject to broadcast to her. He had tried several times before, but each time she blew him off. So it didn't surprise him to hear her start again.

"No," she shook her head, slowly folding the washcloth in her hands. "I'm fine," she told him, glancing up.

This time would be different though, mainly because he wasn't willing to back down until she agreed on something. "No Sara, you're not. You shouldn't be like this still, you hardly sleep anymore…you shouldn't be having nightmares like this every night."

"I'm getting better," she said dejectedly, "This is the first one I've had all week."

Reaching out Greg grabbed a hold of her hand, holding it in his firmly. "That's because this is the first time you've really slept all week. We need to find you someone to talk to about them. I mean, you won't talk to me, you won't talk to Grissom."

"If can't talk to you and Grissom about them," she snapped, "what makes you think I'm going to talk to some stranger about them?"

"That's the whole point," Greg responded, keeping his voice level. "I assume that you won't talk to me about it because they're about me, and therefore you feel embarrassed to talk to anyone else that knows me about them. If you talk to someone who doesn't have any connection, it might be easier."

Sara ran her tongue over her dry lips as she looked away. "We need to get going," she told him quietly.

"Don't avoid me on this Sara," Greg pleaded with her, "I'm tired of you ignoring me."

"We're going to be late," it was as if she hadn't even heard him.

"No," Greg stated firmly, "We have plenty of time."

She shook her head, standing as she did so. "I'm going to take a shower," she told him softly, "get out."

"Sara," Greg started, but she was already pulling her shirt off.

"Greg, please…just go."

Greg let out a sigh, making his way towards the door. "Okay, but don't ever say I didn't try," he warned her, closing the door as he left.

Turning the water on to an icy cold, she stepped in without hesitation, shivering at the sudden temperature change. Closing her eyes she let the water run over her face, letting the water mix in with her own tears as she balled her fingers into a fist, pressing them against her mouth, trying to drown out the choking sobs that shook her body.

If there was only way to make him see, to make him understand why she couldn't talk about them. Sure, she wanted them to stop, she wanted more than anything to be able to go to sleep, and not worry about reliving her worst fears. Greg just didn't understand, and he never would.

* * *

They drove in together that night; there had been no argument, Sara had been too tired. Although Greg had gotten no more sleep than Sara had, she had not argued when he grabbed the keys.

The pair had not said a word to each other since earlier, and the silence was beginning to strain. Greg didn't know what to say, or if he should even try to say anything. He knew Sara was still mad at him for earlier, he knew that she would be as well. It wasn't surprising; Sara was a very independent person. It was one of the reasons why he liked her so much, but it was beginning to grind his nerves that she would not ask for the help when she needed it.

The worse part was that he knew that she knew she needed help. She just wouldn't admit it, but he wasn't sure if it was out of pride or fear that this reasoning came about. He risked glancing over at her, finding that her attention was directed out the window. Letting out a sigh he turned back to the front.

"How long is this going to go on this time?" he wondered.

"What?" Sara asked, still looking out the window.

"You know what," Greg muttered lightly. "I'm just trying to help."

"I know that," Sara responded, her voice flat. "I don't need any help though."

Greg bit his lip in order to keep from sighing again as he pulled in the parking lot. Sara had left the car before he had even turned the engine off. He sat in the driver's seat for a moment, watching her walk in before climbing out himself. He made no move to catch up to her as he followed. As much as he hated being pushed away like this, he knew that things would work themselves out much quicker if he didn't interfere. All he had to do now was wait.

**TBC**


	5. Mistakes

**Chapter Five: Mistakes**

Ice. That was how she would describe it. The temperature of his skin. Ice cold; there was no other way. His lips were blue, as were his fingers, his face ashen. Sara reached out with a shaky hand, running her fingers over his chilly skin, unshed tears clinging to her eyes. If only she had done something, she thought bitterly, resting her head on top of his forehead, closing her eyes a silent sob shook her body.

The blood beneath him was thick and grimy, a sour smell hung in the air, the smell of rotting flesh. Around her the taunts of their captors continued; Sara responded to none of it. She only rested there, next to Greg, crying softly, uttering up a prayer. There was nothing she could do.

Behind her, the man raised his gun, and Sara met his eyes for a brief moment, as he squeezed the trigger…

A loud band caused Sara to jump, bolting into a sitting position, startling the other occupant in the room. Warrick stood a few feet away from her, holding on one hand to steady himself as he backed up.

"Whoa," he breathed heavily, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Groaning Sara let herself drop back down, her head coming to a rest on the armrest. She felt sick, the sour smell and bitter taste still clinging in her memory. Squeezing her eyes shut she rubbed her temples, a meager attempt to get rid of the pounding headache that was haunting her.

"You know," Warrick started again, coming closer. Sara brought her legs in under her, giving him room to sit down next to her. "You should head home, take a breather. You and Greg have pulled some heavy shifts lately. Take a night off, catch up on your sleep."

Sara shook her head dully, grimacing as she focused her gaze on him. "Thanks, but I'll be fine."

Warrick nodded, but he didn't seem convinced. "You sure? I mean, you've seemed to be a bit distracted lately. Like now…what are you doing in here?"

"The same thing you're doing," Sara snapped lightly. It wasn't as if she was trying to be mean, but the question seemed out of place, and a bit rude in her circumstances. "I'm taking a coffee break."

Warrick nodded, leaning back, his arms resting on top of the couch on either side of him. "Well, my coffee breaks don't last for 45 minutes."

Stunned, Sara glanced up at the clock, groaning even louder. "I was supposed to meet Greg thirty minutes ago," she complained, pushing herself up.

She came to a stop, squeezing her eyes shut as a wave of dizziness washed over her. All of the sudden she felt quite sick. Warrick had a hold of her arm gently, talking to her, telling her to just rest for a moment. Once the feeling had passed, she shook him off, getting to her feet.

"I just got up to quickly," Sara reassured him, sighing when she saw he wasn't going to buy that excuse. Ever so gently, he pulled her back down in a sitting position, one hand wrapped in hers as he watched her.

"You want to talk?" he asked quietly.

Sara tried to fake a smile, avoiding his eyes for fear of him seeing the lie within her. "There's nothing to talk about," she stated plaintively. "I'll admit it, I'm a bit behind on my sleep, and the last few weeks have been stressful. I'm just feeling the strain, that's all."

Warrick nodded, still holding her hand as his voice became more serious, if that was at all possible. "Greg's told me about your dreams," he said softly.

Sara felt her mouth go dry, as her heart rate picked up a notch. All of the sudden it was hard to talk, let alone breathe. She blinked a few times, hoping, and praying she had somehow heard him wrong, all the while knowing she had not.

"Greg told you…" she whispered, nearly choking on her words. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "He…he told you that we're…"

She wasn't able to finish, but she had gotten enough words out to make her point. Warrick shrugged lightly. "He didn't need to," he explained, "You can see it in his eyes, he really cares for you. It's no surprise you two are staying together. Greg's worried about you Sara, and so am I."

She turned away, her gaze settling on the floor. Wearily she blinked her eyes, holding back the tears that threatened to come forth. The memories came back to her in a rush, reality mixing with dream. All if it had seemed so real, she wasn't able to distinguish one from the other.

The smell of blood, of death, lingered in the air around her, as her breathing hitched. She could still hear his cries, could still see the streaks on his face, the ones left by endless crying. She would reach out to him slowly, yearning to comfort him, but she would always fall short of her intended goal.

A bitter taste grew in her mouth as she shook her head, turning towards Warrick as he gave her hand a comforting squeeze. "It's nothing," she muttered. "Greg's just being overprotective, that's all." Her voice then was confident, almost so that she even believed herself.

Slowly, she stood again, her hand slipping out of Warrick's as she made her way towards the door. "I need to catch up with Greg," she said quietly, not even turning to see his reaction. With that simple statement, she pushed past the doors, leaving Warrick sitting alone on the couch.

* * *

They hadn't talked since before coming into work that night. Sure, they exchanged words when needed, their focus completely on the case, but it was easy to tell that both of them were avoiding each other.

Greg made sure to keep his distance, knowing that if Sara wasn't mad at him before, that she certainly was now. He knew that approaching Warrick about her nightmares was a risky action, but at the same time, he knew that she would never talk to him about them, and he was worried what the outcome would be if she didn't talk to someone soon.

He had thought long and hard about whom to ask. Grissom was definitely out of question. He knew that Sara had liked him some time before, and he believed that for some part, she still did. Aside from the factor, he would never have enough nerve to tell Grissom that he and Sara were living together.

His second choice was Catherine, which he quickly dismissed. The two women hardly got along, and it was best that they kept their distance. Their differences clashed harshly, and trying to put the two together was like trying to mix oil and water. It wasn't that they didn't like each other; it was their opinions that started all the wars between them.

Greg then considered Nick, yet something just didn't seem right with the combination. It wasn't until Warrick passed him in the hall that he found who he was looking for. It had taken little more than a few minutes to explain everything; Greg kept details to a minimum. He knew that Sara was going to be furious with him, so he thought it best to leave out any major details. Greg had also made Warrick swear he'd never tell anyone else, to which the other man agreed.

To a causal bystander, one would not be able to tell they were indeed avoiding each other. Greg noticed it easily; he could tell by the tone in her voice, by the way she walked, even by her stance. He would need to apologize later, buy her some roses, once she cooled down some. Greg knew that she would eventually, and at the same time that her 'silent treatment' towards him would last longer this time than all the others.

As if the tension between them wasn't enough, the entire crime lab was in an uproar. Another picture had arrived in the mail, an older man, in his 40's, bound and gagged, just like all the others. Grissom had already pointed out that the man had less than 48 hours, if he followed the same routine as their last two victims.

It also threw in a dent in their case. The only connection they had so far between victims was that they all were women. Now, their latest victim cut off any and all connections. The writing on the bottom of the pictures had been analyzed, showing that it was the same person writing each message. At the moment, they couldn't pull anything else from the photos.

Greg and Sara were pulling on coveralls, having been handed a request to reexamine the last dumpsite, when Grissom walked in on them, papers in his hand. Holding out the paper first to Sara, who refused it, he then thrust it into Greg's waiting hand, who read it over, a look of confusion crossing his face.

"You're pulling us off the case?" Greg asked skeptically, glancing up at him. Sara did as well, frowning.

"No," Grissom stated, looking from one to the other. "Ecklie is."

"This case is supposed to fall under days," Greg reminded him as Sara snatched the paper from his hand.

"Ecklie passed it off to the night shift. He doesn't feel that you two are up to the current case, so he wants you to cover this one."

"Ecklie doesn't? Or you don't?" Sara asked coldly, crumpling the paper in her hand.

"Don't," Grissom held up hand. "Don't start, just take the case. Rape victim, Tina Whitson, she's waiting up front for you two. Get her statement, then check out the scene. Small store at a rest stop, about thirty miles from here."

Sara was glaring at Grissom now, but he did not acknowledge her, nor did he confront her anger. He knew ahead of time that she would be displeased; there was no reason to upset her further.

With a disgruntled sigh, she began pulling off the coveralls, throwing them on the floor in a pile. She pushed past Grissom not even waiting for Greg who was still standing there, hands in his pockets.

"I guess I better catch up," Greg mentioned lightly, "Before we have an assault charge to look into as well." He was trying to lighten the mood, though he knew his joke was out of place.

"Don't start anything with her," Grissom pleaded, "I can't handle anything more at this time. If you two start fighting again Ecklie's going to step in, and it won't be pretty, I can guarantee you that."

"Nothing's pretty when Ecklie gets involved," Greg raised an eyebrow as he pushed past him, whistling softly as he moved quickly to catch up with Sara.

* * *

If she hadn't been so tired, she would have driven. The interview had lasted only twenty minutes, the victim fairly straightforward with all that had happened. The hospital had already contacted the crime lab, notifying them that the rape kit would arrive sometime tomorrow. The girl was no more than thirty; she had sat in the plastic chairs, legs folded, arms straight at her sides, her fingers clenched over the edge, digging into the plastic. Her story had been teary eyed, but it was too early to tell how credible it was.

Leaning against the window, Sara blinked warily as they drove, neither one talking. It was now in the late afternoon, they were on their second double shift in only three days, and the strain was taking its toll. She was so tired, and yet at the same time, afraid to give in to her body's demands.

Even worse was the simple fact she could not curl up next to Greg. First off he was driving, and that would make things difficult. Secondly, she was angry with him. She had to keep reminding herself that. She was determined to stay angry with him, determined to make him pay.

It had infuriated her that he had felt that it was okay to talk to others about their personal life…about her personal life. She had told Greg once that she wasn't going to talk about it, and what did he do? He went behind her back to find someone to pry at her. No, she wouldn't let him off, not until he had suffered some. It was childish, yes, but it felt so wonderful at the same time.

Greg was then shaking her shoulder, and she blinked warily, pulling away from him. "Don't touch me," she snapped, perhaps a little more harshly than she intended.

Greg pulled back lightly, unable to mask the inflicted pain as the emotion worked through his face. He moved to say something but Sara was already pushing the door open, stretching as her feet hit the ground.

The sun was setting behind the hills as Sara donned her glasses, glancing at the sky. Clouds were moving in, dark and thunderous, suggesting that a storm was coming soon. She had been standing there for only a moment when a black Corvette came speeding around the corner, screeching to a halt.

Sara jumped backwards quickly, stumbling onto the sidewalk as she fell backwards; catching herself with her hands as the car narrowly avoided hitting her. Greg was by her side in an instant, but Sara shrugged off his help, more in anger at the crazed driver than at Greg himself, but she had missed the look he had given her.

Before she even knew it, she was spitting a line of curses at the driver, a man in his thirties, who had jumped from his car quickly, checking to make sure she was okay.

"Watch where you're going!" Sara yelled, pulling out of Greg's grasp again.

"I'm sorry," the man sputtered, still standing behind his car door. "I didn't see you," he explained.

"Obviously!" Sara shouted, almost dumbfounded as Greg pulled her back.

"Apology accepted," Greg called out to him, waving to him to continue. For a moment the driver paused before climbing into his car and pulling into a slot further away from where Greg had parallel parked alongside the road.

"What are you doing?" Sara snapped, wrestling free from his grasp. "He nearly hit me, I could have died!"

"It was an accident Sara," he responded, trying to keep his voice steady. "Besides, all we have to do is get his license plate number and turn it in for reckless driving. Don't start picking fights with complete strangers."

"You know," she said quietly, stepping up closer to him. "You wouldn't be this calm if he had hit me."

"No," Greg admitted, his tone matching hers. "But you didn't get hit, did you?"

"Do you even care about me?" she asked.

Greg seemed to be taken aback by the question. "Yes Sara, I do. I care about you a lot…I love you. Why would you ask something like that?"

She didn't say anything at first, her eyes level with his own. "No," she finally answered, her voice cold. "You don't, otherwise you would have done more."

Greg bit his lip as she turned away, standing there as she walked away quickly. He tried to shake off her words, reminding himself that she was working off of very little sleep, and was in a foul mood on top of that. He reasoned with himself that she was probably not very coherent, unaware of what she actually said.

Still he didn't move, even as the rain began to fall around him, and he could only stare at the building in front of him. Her words had hurt him, even if they were said in haste. Finally he swallowed, reaching down to grab the case in his hand, willing himself to move forwards.

Passing by the Corvette, he glanced at the license plate, reading the numbers over several times, implanting the code in his head. It was the least he could do as the sickly feeling began to gnaw away at him from inside.

* * *

As soon as she had said those words, she had regretted them. She had left as quickly as she could, leaving Greg to carry the case. She knew that if she stayed behind, then more chaos would ensue. She hadn't meant to say it; she had been testy, still shaken from the near encounter. There was no reason for her to snap at Greg like that.

How many more times was she going to hurt him before making amends? Would she even be able to make amends, or was now too late? A cool blast of air conditioning greeted her as she stepped inside, momentarily washing away her thoughts.

The store clerk took one glance at her, turning back towards the newspaper in his hands. "Can I help you?" he muttered gruffly.

He was a short man, on the chubby side, nearly bald. He had a thick black mustache and beard, and his cool green eyes said very little. Sara cleared her throat as she approached the counter, hearing the door open behind her as Greg came inside.

"We're here from the Las Vegas Crime Lab," Sara greeted him; "We have a warrant to look around your store."

The man scoffed, turning to the next page. "You don't need a warrant to look around my store," he stated, "It's open to anyone and everyone for shopping."

"We, uh…we're not here to shop," Greg said quietly, his voice still pained.

Sara winced, hearing the effort behind his voice to stay calm. Exactly why did she have to be so cruel towards him? It was then she made up her mind, as soon as they had a moment alone, she would apologize, try to make things up.

"You want me to close down shop?" the man's voice broke her thoughts, and she glanced up. He had dropped the paper on the table, and was leaning over it heavily.

The man that had nearly hit her earlier waited nervously to the side, glancing quickly at Sara before turning away. She stepped back, letting him pass, watching as he paid quickly. Greg was watching him closely as well, and no one said a word until the nervous man had left. Sara closed her eyes, calming herself as Greg took the lead again.

"It will only be for a few hours," Greg told him, "You're store originally closes down in two hours, that's all we need."

"You want me to close down two hours early? Do you have any idea how many customers' I get through here?"

"Sir," Sara interfered, seeing that this wasn't going anywhere. "We have a warrant, you need to close down shop now, or we will have you arrested for obstruction of justice."

The man grumbled, but nodded his head as he rounded the counter. "Fine, do whatever you have to. But I will be going into a full scale search on this, this isn't fair, I know my rights."

Sara rolled her eyes, already knowing that they had a full night ahead of them.

* * *

It had been two hours; two hours since they had been there. And not a single word had been passed between, not even work related. The tension now was fiercer than ever, both were afraid to talk, afraid of what the outcome would be.

Sara felt terrible; she had been out of line. Yet worrying over it endlessly wouldn't help anything, she needed to focus on the case at hand. Normally the case moved along quicker, seeing that she always talked with someone while she worked, or listened to music. The silence was unnerving.

Reaching up, she rubbed her neck graciously, wincing at the soreness as she labeled the final bag. Glancing over at Greg she watched as he worked, sorting out his own bags, his back towards her.

She pushed herself to her feet, pulling off her gloves. Gathering up her stuff, she made her way over to Greg, standing next to him for a moment, before crouching down beside him.

"We should get going," she told him softly, to which he only nodded. For a moment she considered trying to say something else, but decided against it. She would wait; she would wait as long as she had to, rather than risk everything. At least they were not fighting. Not that not talking was a good thing, but it was better than fighting.

Greg took the lead, Sara following behind him at a slower pace. Behind them the store owner locked the door, shutting off the lights. He had stayed out of the way, but it was clear he wasn't happy about their procedure.

Dropping the bags off in the back seat, Sara gratefully climbed in the passenger seat away from the drenching rain. Ahead a bolt of lightning lit the skies and she could see Greg visibly shudder, smiling at the simple thought that someone like Greg was afraid of thunderstorms.

Once inside, he reached over to start the engine, but was surprised as Sara laid a hand on his arm, stopping his movements.

"Look," she started slowly, "about tonight."

Greg only shook his head, turning away as he swallowed heavily. He had tried his hardest to forget what she had said, but even now it still lingered with him. "Not now," he choked out the words. No…not now, he couldn't handle it now. Not here.

Slipping the key in the ignition, the car started with no problem. Checking over his shoulder, Greg pulled onto the road in one smooth motion, without the need of having to back up. It was the main reason he had parked liked that, he wasn't fond of backing up vehicles.

He had only gone a few feet when he realized that he was going to fast. Visibility was low, only enabling him to see a few feet in front of the hood. The rain came down heavily, splattering against the windshield. Even with the windshield wipers on full speed, it wasn't doing much.

Next to him Sara voiced her concern, turning to look out the window. "Slow down," she said uneasily, unsure if her comment was really necessary.

Greg swallowed, fighting off the panicking feeling that building in his gut as he stepped on the brake again, getting nothing in response. "I can't," he said uneasily.

Sara glanced towards him quickly, shocked at his response. "What?"

"Brakes aren't working," he stated, trying to stay calm. He pumped the brakes several times, hoping that they would kick in. Up ahead Greg could see the road start to turn, and at the speed they were traveling, he knew that the turn was too sharp for them to make at this speed.

It was the last thing he remembered.

**TBC…**


	6. Descent

**Short Chapter this time, in comparison with the last one. But the next chapter should be longer! R2R next chapter as well.**

* * *

**Chapter Six: Descent **

A steady drip of water falling on his face slowly pulled him from his trance. He raised his head slightly, groaning at the effort. His vision swam, and he had trouble focusing; he couldn't think.

Rain pelted the windshield in front of him, and for a brief moment the sky lit up as lightning flashed across the darkness. All he knew at the moment was that his head hurt, and Greg slowly reached up with his hand, surprised to find that he couldn't move it.

Looking down he let out a small cry of alarm, finding that his arm was pinned beneath him and the car; he was lying heavily against the door. The dashboard had been smashed in, pinning his legs together awkwardly, ceasing any movement.

Panicked now, Greg arched his back, trying desperately to pull free, crying softly at the pain from the sudden movements. Defeated, he lay his head down against the window, the glass close to breaking, only supported by the hard ground beneath.

His breaths came in heavy gasps as he tried to recollect his thoughts. He couldn't focus, and it was beginning to scare him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to calm himself down, but the panic was too real.

He was now breathing quicker, nearly choking as he did so. A single warning went off in the back of his mind, warning him that he was close to passing out, and part of him welcomed it. At the moment, it was too much for him to deal with it. At the same time, the fear of never waking up again washed over him.

He could feel himself trembling; never before had he felt so cold, not like this, and as the pressing darkness came again, he wasn't able to find the strength to fight against it any longer, slowly fading away.

* * *

The air was sultry, and clouds were still hanging above even as the thunder squall passed. Brass stepped out of the car, pulling his light jacket around him as he made his way around the front. He was off in only a few hours, and this latest call had taken him quite a ways out. It was his third consecutive call in only the last few hours.

He frowned as he stepped into a puddle, the murky water splashing up around his ankle, efficiently soaking his shoe. Brass shook off as much excess water as he could, cursing under his breath as he met one of the on scene medics.

"What do we have?" Brass asked skeptically, noticing that he was the only officer around. Normally there would have been others, and since he had arrived so late, it was peculiar that he was the only one there.

"Car went off the road at the turn, rolled several times. We've pulled one out so far, the driver's still trapped, we're waiting for backup."

"That's it?" Brass asked after the medic had stopped. The man, who was close to thirty, nodded as he pulled a bag from the back of the ambulance.

"Pretty much; heavy rains, low visibility. They didn't see the turn until it was too late. Happens more than you think."

"Then this isn't a crime scene," Brass stated, a bit irate. "Why was I notified then?"

"You were requested," he stated, closing the door. He motioned for Brass to follow, which the older man did.

"Young lady, pulled her from the car. Says she works with you, a Sara Sidle, you know her?"

Brass came to a stop, a sudden icy fear gripping him. At first he couldn't say anything, only watching the paramedic. "Is she okay?" Brass finally managed to choke the words out.

The medic only raised his free arm, pointing over towards the side. "Go ask her yourself," he encouraged, walking the opposite way. Brass paused for a moment, before doing so.

Sara was sitting on a fallen log, her head resting in her hands. Even in the dim light he could see the blood that covered her hands and head, matting her hair. She glanced up as he knelt down in front of her, and he could see the bruising that covered her face, several small cuts bleed freely from her cheek.

"Brass," she said, her voice shaky.

"You okay?" he asked, watching her.

Sara nodded, folding her hands together. "Yeah…I think so," she muttered, her eyes cast downwards again.

Brass frowned, grimacing as he saw the way her wrist was bent. He reached out slowly, touching the bruised flesh and she winced, pulling her hand away. Brass glanced back up at her, his eyes concerned.

"You're going to have to get that looked at," he stated plaintively. "Looks broken."

Sara shook her head, "It's okay…Greg's still in the car…they haven't gotten to him yet." Her voice was withdrawn as her gaze went past him. Brass turned on his heel, glancing over his shoulder. Now he wished he hadn't.

There was almost nothing left of the car, the metal was bent and twisted almost beyond recognition. The vehicle had come to rest on the side, the front end smashed around the driver's seat. Brass knew right then that if Greg was even still alive, then it was a miracle.

"Sara," he asked uneasily, "Can you tell me what happened?"

It wasn't that he didn't trust the medic; he wanted to mainly distract Sara as the medics worked to pull Greg out. Sara shifted uncomfortably, looking away from the wreckage. Her voice was still uneven, shaky at best.

"Greg was driving…it was hard to see, there was a lot of rain. We went about 100 feet…maybe more, I can't remember. Greg said the brakes weren't working…said they were slipping or something. We came to the turn and the brakes still weren't working…I think he told me to hold on or…or something like that. I don't remember. The evidence is still in the car too…they couldn't get a hold of Grissom."

Brass nodded, understanding why he had been contacted now. "I'll get someone on recovering it. You need to get to the hospital though, and the sooner the better."

Sara shook her head even as he stood, taking her by the arm gently. "I have to see if Greg's okay," she muttered quietly.

Brass let out a long sigh, shaking his head. He had a bad feeling about all if this. He knew that Sara was worried; he was as well. However, she needed medical attention, her wrist was clearly broken, and by the way she was talking it sounded like she might have a concussion. The last thing she needed to do was see Greg's state when and if they ever got him out of there.

"Greg will be right behind you," Brass told her instead, walking her over to the ambulance. "You can see him later, but you need to get some help first."

Sara protested lightly, but in vain as Brass called over one of the medics. He waited just long enough to watch them take her away, the lights flashing as it drove down the road out of sight. Turning back towards the wreckage, he let out a sigh, shaking his head as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

"Hey Gil, its Brass," he said quietly as soon as he heard the other man's voice on the line. "There's been an accident."

**TBC…**


	7. Letting Go

**Chapter Seven: Letting Go**

Grissom came to a stop at the red light, impatience filling him. He had ignored the earlier phone calls, something he normally didn't do. It was just at that time he had been so busy, he didn't need the extra distraction. He had answered the last time, knowing that someone was trying to get a hold of him. That was the eighth time it had gone off in the last twenty minutes.

Whom he didn't expect was Brass. He had been about to cut the older man off, tell him that he had too much work to do to be bothered. Brass' voice had been remorseful, and Grissom was at a loss of words as Brass relayed the incident to him.

Ever since the seminar, Grissom had found himself more overprotective over Greg and Sara, to the point he believed he drove the pair crazy sometimes. Yet he couldn't help it, couldn't help but feel that some of what happened to them was his fault. Although it was a ridiculous thought, and they were the first to say so.

All he could do at that point was listen to Brass talk. Sara was okay, already on her way to the hospital, which was where he was headed now. Greg was a different story; Grissom felt sick as Brass watched them pull the youth from the car. He wasn't sure how bad Greg was, but Brass had pretty much summed it up as bad.

The light changed to green once more, and Grissom floored it, quickly getting up to the speed limit, creeping above it as much as he dared. The hospital was just up ahead, and he changed lanes, slowing to stop as he waited for oncoming traffic.

He pulled in the first parking spot he came across, quickly making his way inside. He didn't have far to go, Brass was already there, waiting in the lobby. The detective shrugged his shoulders as Grissom inquired on their conditions.

"Sara's going to be okay," Brass told him, although that was already known. "Concussion, broken wrists, bruises, cuts…but she'll be fine."

Grissom nodded, crossing his arms. "What about Greg?"

"I don't know," Brass said quietly. "They had to perform CPR en route to the hospital. They don't know if he's going to pull through or not."

"He's going to be fine," Grissom told him sternly, already starting to pace back and forth. "Greg's strong, he'll pull through, he will."

He was stating it more for himself than for Brass. Grissom knew the detective had his own doubts, but Grissom refused to believe that it was over. Greg still had too much life to live; the world wouldn't be so cruel as to take him now, would it? He had to believe that Greg would be okay.

Brass shook his head, sighing. "I've sent Catherine and Warrick out to accident site, find out if they can save any of the evidence or not. The case will probably be thrown out, there's nothing left of the car."

It was hard, to lose a case in this manner. After the lab explosion, trying to find closure to cases had been difficult. They had lost quite a bit of evidence, and that wasn't exactly smiled upon. There would be little difference in this case, but what was worse was the simple fact that the blame would be pinned on Greg and Sara.

"What happened?" Grissom asked quietly, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

Brass sighed, looking up at him. "Paramedics said that turn takes quite a bit of people by surprise. Stated that with the weather conditions, they probably missed the turn, hydroplaned, something of the sort." There was a short pause before he continued. "I talked to Sara though; she said something about the brakes not working. I don't remember exactly, there was too much happening."

"The brakes were just serviced last month," Grissom pointed out, leaning sitting down in an empty chair. "Why wouldn't they work?"

Brass shrugged, still standing. "I don't know. Weird though, isn't it?"

Grissom nodded in agreement, but neither said another word. They waited for nearly an hour like that, accompanied only by the silence, and the quiet talk of the others that passed by. During that time, Grissom had wandered up the front desk several times, asking about the condition of the two CSI's, always receiving the same response; when they found something out, they would let him know.

So he was thankful when the door finally did open, a young nurse coming in. She nodded to the two men, pulling her glasses off. "Dr. Grissom?" she confirmed.

Grissom nodded, standing up next to Brass. "How are they?" he asked, his voice quiet.

She gave him a small smile, glancing down at the chart. "Sara is doing fine," she told him, "She'll be out her in a few minutes, they're just finishing some things up with her. She'll need plenty of rest, and she needs to go easy for the next week. Nothing strenuous."

Grissom nodded, it was expected. He cleared his throat before continuing. "What about Greg?"

"At this point we don't know," she said, her voice quiet. It was always hard to break the bad news to people. "They lost him twice, but they've been able to stabilize him. We'll know more if he makes it through the night. He's lucky; by all means the initial impact should have killed him."

Grissom swallowed heavily, nodding as he saw Sara enter the room, a doctor by her side, talking to her still. "Greg's a fighter," Grissom told the nurse, his gaze on Sara. "He won't give up."

The nurse nodded, her response quiet. "I hope you're right."

He waited until after the nurse had left before making his way over to Sara. There was a small bandage on her forehead, her wrist supported in a cast. Her eyes were slightly glazed, suggesting she was still heavily medicated. Crouching down to her eye level, Grissom waited until she made eye contact with him before he started talking.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Sara licked her lips, keeping her gaze on him. "Okay right now," she answered, her words slightly slurred. "I don't even know what they have me on, but it's pretty neat stuff because I can't feel anything."

Grissom laughed softly, reaching over to grab her hand. "Sounds like it," he commented dryly.

She didn't respond to his gesture, changing the topic instead. "I wanted to see how Greg was doing, but they said he's not taking visitors right now."

Her voice sounded so remorseful, and Grissom squeezed her hand gently. "Greg's having a tough time right now, the doctors need to work on him, and he needs his rest. You'll be able to see him in the morning."

"If he makes it," Sara commented, cutting Grissom off before he could even start. "I've already heard the report," she told him.

"I'll give you a ride home," he started, unsurprised when she starting shaking her head.

"I want to stay here," she stated firmly.

Grissom nodded. He had figured she would say that. "I know. Let's get you home, you can get cleaned up, grab some extra stuff, then head back here. Maybe you'll be able to see him by the time you come back."

Sara considered his offer for a moment before nodding. She wanted to change out of theses clothes, the ones that were stained with blood, both hers and Greg's. And at this point all she could do was wait, and running back to the apartment really quick would take up some of that time.

She allowed Grissom to help her to her feet, and let him walk her out. Brass opted to stay behind, in case Greg's condition changed. Sara felt an odd sense leaving the building, she didn't want to go, but she reminded herself firmly that she would be back.

She didn't say anything as Grissom helped her into the car, shutting the door as she fastened her seatbelt. Moving with the cast on was difficult; it would take some time to get used to.

The drugs, as well as her own weariness were starting to take a heavy toll on her. The car moving under her was slowly lulling her to sleep, and as Grissom drove on it took her a moment to realize why it felt so wrong.

Blinking as she looked around at her surrounding, she muttered her concerns. "Where are you going?"

Grissom slowed the vehicle just slightly, meeting her gaze. "To your apartment," he stated, watching her. "Are you okay?" he asked quickly, "You want me to take you back to the hospital?"

Sara stared at him for a moment, then shook her head violently as realization hit her. "No," she muttered, "no, um…I don't live this way anymore," she yawned as she waved his concern off. "I uh…I moved."

She felt like an idiot now, barely able to talk, let alone think, all the while giving her supervisor the impression that she was insane. Grissom had pulled to the side of the road, still watching her.

"I didn't know you moved," he told her.

"A while back now," she muttered, trying to avoid his gaze. "I uh…I live with Greg now…" her voice was quiet.

Grissom didn't say anything, he only stared at her. He had heard rumors that Greg and Sara were spending more time together; maybe even to the point that they were dating, but he had never thought it was this serious.

Sara must have sensed his thoughts, because she let out a loud sigh. "Come on Griss, it's not like we're married. I needed a place to stay, and Greg offered to have me move in with him."

"Does Ecklie know about this?" he asked softly.

"What does Ecklie have to do with us?" Sara stated loudly, turning away from him.

"If your relationship interferes with work," Grissom warned, surprised at how fast Sara turned on him.

"Obviously it hasn't," she spat, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down. "You didn't know, so why would Ecklie?"

"Sara," he said quietly, "I'm only watching out for you two. I don't want Ecklie using this against you guys."

"Well, I don't think he has to worry about it too much longer," she said bitterly, biting her lip to keep from crying.

"Greg's going to be okay," he told her. After all, he had to be okay, it was the same thing Grissom had been reasoning since Brass had contacted him.

Sara was crying now, and she reached up with a shaky hand, wiping away the fallen tears. "I said some things to him," she choked bitterly, "things I shouldn't have said. If he doesn't make it, then I don't know what I'd do."

Grissom didn't say anything, he wasn't able to. He only watched her, as she continued to cry softly. He wasn't the best person at comforting others, he never had been. It was then his phone rang, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Grissom answered it after the first ring, his attention still focused so much on Sara that he didn't catch who it was at first.

"Griss," Brass' voice was heavy as he talked, and the sickly feeling that was in the pit of his stomach grew at the stretch of silence.

"Yeah?" Grissom answered uneasily. It was in the next second that everything seemed to stop.

"They just lost him."

**TBC…**

**I'm going off to hide now!**


	8. Stay With Me

**Chapter Eight: Stay With Me**

The atmosphere in the conference room was tense, only a few quiet words were muttered between everyone as they waited for the meeting to start. Grissom stood up front, bent over the table, shuffling through a file. He knew that everyone was here, knew that everyone was waiting. Grissom was stalling; this was one of the reasons why he hated being a supervisor.

Day shift had elected to take over the serial case, at least until things were sorted out. Catherine's team had taken over the case Sara and Greg originally had, having just come back from the accident scene.

Sara was at the hospital, staying right by Greg's side after the false alarm. Grissom had to pull some strings to allow her in to see him, but the staff at the hospital had finally allowed it. They, including Grissom, were hoping that it would do some good for the young CSI. Likewise, news traveled fast through the rest of the department.

Letting out a sigh, Grissom finally took a seat, removing his glasses. "As you all know, Greg and Sara were in an accident late last night. Sara is going to be fine, and we hope to see her back in sometime next week." He paused at this point, letting out an unsettling breath as he shifted in his seat a little. He could feel everyone watching him.

"As for Greg," Grissom started again, making a point to avoid everyone's gaze, "the doctors aren't expecting him to pull through."

There were soft gasps throughout the room, quiet mutters. Everyone knew that Greg had been hurt bad, but no one had expected it to be this bad. It was a hard fact to face, but no one could change reality. Lifting his gaze now, Grissom continued.

"Greg has slipped into a coma, and at this point, only time will tell. Make the time to see him, while you still can," he stated, "let the staff know you're from the crime lab, and they'll let you in. Sara is staying with him, and she'll let us know when something doeshappens."

As he finished, an uneasy silence fell about the room as the shock slowly began to settle in. For a minute or two, Grissom didn't speak, didn't have the heart to. He was deeply worried, not only for Greg, but for Sara as well. The words she had said were still floating in his mind… _If he doesn't make it, then I don't know what I'd do._

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Rubbing his forehead, Grissom shifted in his chair, looking up to Catherine. It was time to change topics.

"What were you able to pull from the scene?"

Catherine shook her head, rubbing her eyes. Grissom wasn't even sure when the swing shift had taken their last break. Though being short handed like this, they didn't exactly have a choice.

"There were no evidence bags in the vehicle, and none that we could find thrown from the impact. Car's in the garage, Nick's been working on it. Warrick and I are going to head back out to the scene to see if we can find the bags."

Grissom nodded, taking in the information. "Take a good look at the vehicle," he lifted his gaze to Nick. "Sara stated that the brakes weren't working, I want you to find out why. Give me a reason so that we can clear Greg's name."

"You don't think Greg is responsible for this, do you?" Warrick asked, watching him.

"No," Grissom stated patiently. "But we do have two CSI's requiring medical treatment, one in serious condition. The lab is going to find someone to place the blame on, and the sooner we clear Greg's name, the better."

Nick nodded as he stood, pushing his chair back in. "I'm on it," he stated, closing the door behind him as he left. Warrick started to stand, pausing when he saw that Catherine wasn't going to follow. Instead she turned to look back up at Grissom, watching the older man for a moment. "What are you going to do?" she asked quietly.

Letting out a sigh, Grissom picked up the file folder again, standing up slowly. "Fill out reports," he stated, "and hope that I'm wrong."

* * *

The smell of death was overwhelming. There was blood everywhere, so much that she wasn't sure if it was hers, or Greg's. He wasn't moving; his face was pale, his lips blue. Touching his skin sent a chill down her spine. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Sara blinked, letting out a groan as she opened her eyes. Blinking, she lifted her head slowly, rubbing her head as she remembered where she was. The sheets beneath her were wet, clinging to her face for a moment before drifting slowly back down. They were soaked from her endless tears, tears she couldn't remember shedding. At the same time she couldn't remember falling asleep, she hadn't realized how tired she was; all she had been feeling lately was numb.

Reaching over with her good arm, she touched Greg's hand gingerly, avoiding the bandages that worked their way up his arm. The heart monitor behind her beeped steadily, a wonderful sound to her ears. Greg was still alive, even if he was just clinging to life.

"Hey," she said softly, her hand moving up to rest easily on his forehead. He looked so weak and pale it frightened her. His head had been shaved in order to access the wounds, and thick white bandages had been wrapped around the top his head. They must have changed them again while she was sleeping, because they no longer were soaked in his blood.

She tried to ignore the bruising and the cuts, tried not to pay attention to all the tubes, all the machines. After they had nearly lost him, Greg had been immediately hooked up to a ventilator, being unable to breath on his own. At this moment, it was the only thing keeping him alive. It was an upsetting thought, but she refused to believe that he wouldn't pull through.

Sara bit her lip to keep from crying, but was unable to help the tears that began to fall as she grabbed his hand again, running her fingers over his cool skin. "Greg," she muttered softly, looking back up to his face. His eyes were closed, his face impassive.

"Just hang in there," she whispered, squeezing his hand comfortingly. "I know you're in there, and that you're probably scared…I'm scared too. You know…everything that I said to you, the last few days, I didn't mean it. I was upset, a…and angry. I just want you to know that I love you…just stay with me," she whispered, her voice straining. "Please…don't leave me. Not like this, not now."

She took a deep breath, laying her head back down on the bed as she continued to cry. It took a few moments to catch her breath enough to talk again, but this time her voice was much more broken. "We've had some shaky times, I know, but after everything we've been through, this should be easy. You're so strong, you may think you're not, but I've seen what you can do, and I know you better than anyone. You can pull through this Greg; you just have to hang on."

Her voice became weaker as she lifted his hand up to rest against her face. Closing her eyes, she pulled in a shaky breath as she tried to cease the flow of her tears. "Whatever happens," she whispered to him, "don't make my nightmares come true."

**TBC**


	9. Take My Hand

**Chapter Nine: Take My Hand**

Grissom held the small vial of blood between his thumb and forefinger, tilting it to the side so that the crimson liquid flowed evenly through the tube. The single light hanging overhead reflected off the small tube, but it didn't change the fact of what it was.

Placing the vial on the table, Grissom sat down, reaching with gloved hands to open the remaining envelope. He already had a fair idea of what was inside, and he wasn't let down as he pulled free the small bag, several fingers inside. They were longer, their width more than that of the others they had received in the previous weeks. Definitely male, he thought to himself, his expression drawn.

If he had his calculations right, they had roughly twenty-four hours before their newest victim ended in a dumpster somewhere along the north side of the city. It would mark their fifth victim now, and they still were no closer than they had been before.

The city was on edge; for a while now, they had been able to keep the killings quiet, but somehow the news had leaked out, and the case was once again top priority. Catherine and Warrick had left Nick to finish up working on the vehicle from the crash nearly a week ago. It had been a slow agonizing task for one person, but Nick had been working steadily, and everyone was hoping for answers soon.

Sara had been in and out of work, never at the lab for too long. Greg's condition hadn't improved, but the doctors had stated that he was getting stronger with each passing day. That alone was a relief, but it wasn't enough. Everyone knew that the longer Greg stayed in a coma, the harder it would be for him to pull out of it.

Letting out a sigh, Grissom gathered the new evidence, heading towards the DNA lab. Running a sample through was still mandatory, even though they knew the fingers and blood belonged to the newest victim. More than anything, the killer needed to be stopped. This was beyond murder, it was torture, and there didn't seem to be any end in sight.

He nodded to Mia as he handed her the new samples, turning to Sara as she walked past him, a file in her hand. Falling in step beside her he was able to take a fairly good look at her for the first time that day. She looked worn; beyond fatigued, her steps were sluggish and her movements slow. Grissom knew that she hadn't been sleeping well, and considering everything that had happened within the last week, it wasn't a surprise.

"How are you feeling?" he wondered, trying to start a conversation.

She gave him a shrug, turning to look at him for a brief moment as she made her way down that hall, turning into the layout room. He followed, watching her pull several clear bins from the shelf and placing them on the table.

"Tired, anxious, worried…the same way I've been since the accident," she muttered dryly, working to get the lid open on one.

"And Greg?" he asked, watching her struggles for a moment.

Sara let out a sigh, running her good hand along her forehead, wiping away the beaded sweat. "The same," she told him quietly. "They still have him on the ventilator, but they're talking about taking him off of it in a few days. They keep saying that he should wake up soon, but…" she bit her lip, tugging at the edge of the lid again, muttering a curse.

Grissom reached out, touching her bandaged wrist gently. "Easy with that," he told her, pulling her hands away. "Remember, nothing strenuous, you really shouldn't be working again yet."

"A couple hours a night isn't working Griss," she turned from him, leaning against the table. "Besides, it keeps me from thinking, from worrying."

Grissom nodded knowingly, not saying anything as she stared straight ahead. "We shouldn't have fought," she told him quietly. "It was stupid, childish even. And now I can't even tell him I'm sorry."

"Greg knows that you are," Grissom answered after a moment of silence. Before him, Sara shifted uncomfortable, looking up at him.

"If I had been driving, maybe none of this would have happened," she muttered, "I would have driven if I hadn't been so tired, then Greg wouldn't be in the hospital, he wouldn't be in a coma."

"I wouldn't rule that idea out quite yet," Nick stated, coming in. His face was covered in grime, obvious that he had been sweating. The summer heat was unforgiving, and the garage always became warmer than the rest of the lab.

Grissom nodded for him to continue, and Nick sighed, stepping further in the room as he did so. "When I first found the brake lines, they were severed, pretty badly, but I didn't take to much in count because the car was torn up quite a bit. The one thing that threw me was that the emergency brake was on."

Sara nodded, looking at the both of them. "Greg pulled it right before we went off the road, but by that time it wasn't much help."

Nick shrugged his shoulders, turning to her. "It wouldn't have made a difference," he explained, "The emergency brake is a fail-proof system in case the main brakes go out for one reason or another. It's operated by a cable system, but it won't work if the cable is cut."

Grissom looked at him sharply. "Are you sure?"

Nick nodded slowly, "I double checked, it's a clean cut. Someone tampered with the brakes on the vehicle. Whoever it was, they wanted to make sure Sara and Greg couldn't stop."

"Were you having problems with the brakes before you went off the road?" Grissom turned to Sara.

She shook her head, "Not that I know of, but I slept on the way down, so I guess it was possible, but I would assume Greg would have mentioned it to me."

"Maybe not," Grissom stated, still looking at her. "If you two were fighting, he could have just kept quiet about it."

Sara sighed, holding a hand to her head. "Don't remind me," she muttered dryly.

"Were you able to get anything else?" Grissom turned to Nick then, and the younger man shook his head.

"I'm not even going to try printing, I may be able to find the tool that was used, but that won't get us very far unless we have someone of interest."

Grissom nodded in agreement. There were truly at an end at the moment. "Go back to the dealer ship, see if they noticed anything strange when the replaced the brakes, then find out who had the vehicle last, see if they noticed any problems when they last drove. If we can narrow our timeline, we might be able to find some answers."

Nick nodded, already leaving the room. Sara still stood near the table, a hand pressed against her face. After a moment, she let her arms drop down to her side, and it was evident that she had been crying. Sniffing softly, she collected the paperwork, placing it on top of one bin.

"I think I'm going to head to the hospital for while," she told him softly, the sudden urge to see Greg filling her. "See if anything has changed."

Grissom nodded, stepping back to let her go by. He knew that it was perhaps the best thing for the both of them right now. Before, he had never seen the connection between them, but now it was quite obvious. What was worse was the simple fact that she loved Greg, bothered him, even though he knew that it should not.

* * *

She had been there often enough that the staff knew her by sight. They greeted as she walked in, already answering her unasked question. There had been no noticeable change in Greg.

Taking her normal seat next to his bed, she let out a soft sigh, reaching over to rest her hand on his forehead. His cuts were healing nicely, the bruising starting to subside. Every sign was pointing towards recovery, all they had to do was wait. And she hated to wait.

"Hey there," she said quietly, already falling into a light conversation with him. During these hours it was the quietest in the hospital, and there were fewer interruptions from the hospital staff. Sara made a point of talking to Greg, hoping that he could hear her, hoping that it was giving him some comfort to know that she was by his side.

"Catherine stopped by earlier to see you, Lindsey's made you this beautiful card that says 'Get Well Soon' on it. She even drew pictures on it, she's quite the little artist. If only you could see how worried you have us all, you probably would enjoy all this attention."

Her voice became soft as she went from stroking his forehead to grasping his free hand. "Nick's been working on the car all week. He says that the brake lines were cut. Someone tried to kill us…I'm afraid. It's just like all these dreams I keep having…I would tell you…but I can't…it's too hard."

"I'll tell you now though…I will find out who did this," she stated, leaning in closer. "They won't get away, I promise. I just want to see you wake up, I want to know that you'll be okay. I know that you will. I love you, and I'll wait as long as I have to."

Her voice trailed off as she watched his face, quite an impassive. She hadn't expected a response in return, so why then, was she so disappointed? Closing her eyes, she sighed deeply, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as she let her head drop on the bedside, quietly singing so that she wouldn't have to hear the silence between them.

It was so light, so scarce, that she had almost missed it, and for a moment she thought she was imagining things. Lifting her head back up, she grew quiet as she stared at Greg's face, looking back down to her own hand to see his fingers entwined in hers. Greg had squeezed back.

**TBC**


	10. In the Dark

**Chapter Ten: In the Dark**

"Come on," Sara muttered dryly through her teeth, her hand still wrapped in his. Her eyes never left his face, watching for the slightest movement. She could feel his hold on her, it wasn't firm, but it was indeed there, and that alone was hopeful. Yet there was no change in his face, no indication that he was indeed awake, or close to it.

"Come on Greg," she encouraged him lightly, resting her free hand on his forehead. "You just have to open your eyes; that's not asking much. I want to see you, actually see you. You've gotten this far, you can go all the way now."

She paused here, waiting for a response, but nothing came. Sighing she let go of his hand, pulling back as she sat in the chair. Bringing her knees under her chin she closed her eyes, trying to fight of the weary feeling that was coming to rest on her.

She had never given up hope on him, and even now she believed that Greg would recover. Time could be a painful feeling, the knowledge that you cannot do anything but wait can be overwhelming. For now, Greg was safe in the confines of his mind, and when he chose to finally venture out from the darkness, she would be there waiting for him.

After all, she believed that this could only strengthen their bond. The two had worked side by side for years, their conversations light and easy, flirtatious even, but nothing more than that. Then, in a series of unpreventable circumstances, they had been thrown closer than ever, a constant battle of life to win over death.

Life had never been fantastic for her, if anything it had been the complete opposite. Sara had only begun to talk to Greg about her past, never letting up too much. She was thankful that he did not press the matters, knowing somehow that it was painful for her to recount the horrors she faced growing up. She had promised him that one day, she would tell him everything, but now was not the time.

Though it seemed, within the last several years, more things had gone wrong than all the years of her childhood combined. Her choice of boyfriends had been little to nothing, all of her relationships ending no sooner then they had started, or the simple fact that the other had turned away with little warning. Then there was the lab explosion, the DUI, the suspension, the same one Greg had asked her about, and she had avoided the topic almost completely, giving him only a rough draft version of what had happened.

Then there was Sofia, someone who she still never got along with very well. At the time she had asked Grissom out, Sara still had feelings towards her mentor. It was nearly a week before that night she had picked Greg up. The night that had started the never-ending escalation into danger.

Memories flooded back to her, and she shivered, drawing her arms around her. She had thought for certain that they would both die. She could still remember vividly, holding Greg that night, the pair being forced into a trunk of a car, having very little room to maneuver in. Greg had trembled against her the entire night, from fear, cold, shock, or all three, she never was quite sure.

There had been many people before that had angered her, but at those times, anger was all she felt. Remorse for the victims came afterwards, a connection so deep and dark she was unable to talk about it with anyone.

That night though, she had felt so many emotions, more than she had ever known. They had coursed through her body, sometimes one by one, while others came all at once. In her mind, she had believed that it really was the end.

Even after they had come out of the scrape alive, it took a long time to get back up on their feet. Therapy was a fall out for her, and she stopped going after only a few sessions. Greg still continued to go, encouraging her to join as well, but she disregarded the invitation. For a while they got along fairly well, whispering quietly when they were alone, and sending silent messages when they were around others. After a time, however, they became uneasy around one another; the gap between them was slowly replaced by edginess, then anger.

She knew that she hadn't been the best contestant of 'let's get along', but the entire fault did not rest on her shoulders. After all, Greg had started half of the arguments. At first it was little things; one of them being late to work, taking a longer break than necessary, starting a new project without consulting one another.

Then the little things grew, they began to pick fights, just because they knew they could. Both knew the other's weak points, and used it well. That wasn't necessarily their fault either. They were not used to the work schedule, working in the lab all the time. Maybe Greg was, after all, it was all he had done for years, but not her. Never her, Sara had never worked in the same area for that long.

The trip to the mountains, though loaded with downfalls, had been uplifting in the end. It was refreshing to get fresh air, and though she had missed being back home dearly, the time she had spent with Greg had been wonderful. They both knew they had issues to work out, and though neither admitted it, it was clear they were both trying harder.

It had been a larger move than she had ever thought possible. Returning home, they had spent more time together. They kept their relationship quiet at the lab, even though most of their friends already knew about it. It had been a strict topic that they had discussed, already knowing that there would be those who frowned upon such a thing as coworkers dating.

Now it seemed like it made little difference. With this accident, all viewpoints would be looked at, discussed. It wouldn't take long for Ecklie to find out about the two of them, then after he did, who knew what would happen? She wasn't willing to lose Greg over such a petty matter, but at the same time, she wasn't ready to give up her job. Her job was what made her who she was. Without it, she was nothing. But without Greg, she felt that she would be even less than that.

Sara bit her lip to keep from crying. Being so emotional was hard; there were times that she wished she could be more like Grissom, times when she wished all she had to do was flip a switch that controlled them all. Then maybe she could sleep for once, or eat a decent meal without getting sick as the memories came flooding back.

But most of all, she would be able to keep from crying every time she saw him like this. Greg didn't deserve this; if anyone did, then it was she. After everything she had said to him, when all he had done was try to help. "I'm sorry," she breathed lightly, the tears stinging her eyes.

Only a few seconds after she had spoken, a light groan filled the room, prompting her to open her eyes. Her mouth hung open lightly, and she was unable to move as she watched Greg turn his head towards her, his eyes still closed.

"Greg?" she whispered his name, barely audible even to her ears. Greg had become still again, but only for a moment as he lifted a hand towards his face, another muffled groan coming from him.

Leaning forward, Sara reached for his hand, surprised as he pulled it away, heading back towards his face. It came to a rest on the ventilator that was still on him. Sara whispered his name a few more times, pleading with him to open his eyes, but he seemed oblivious to her request, his one hand still resting against his face.

Within the next moment, the entire atmosphere of the room changed. With one sudden movement Greg had reached up with his other hand, the force so sudden that it pulled the IV clean from his arm, leaving a small trail of blood on the white sheets. With both hands against his face he began to claw at the tubes that around his mouth.

Fear and shock drove through Sara as she quickly reached up, grabbing a hold of his wrists, now screaming his name, desperate to calm him down. One would think that for his condition, he would have been easy to subdue, but there was an unseen spark of adrenaline, driven by fear.

Sara's concern escalated as he pulled free, reaching back up to secure a hold on the ventilator. The heart monitor behind her increased steadily, and a soft cry from Greg beneath her clung to her own heart. Shouting his name still, Sara reached around with one hand, hitting the call button repeatedly, doing her best to try to calm Greg down with little success.

He was still struggling under her hold when the nurse came in, quickly taking in the situation. Shouting down the hall she quickly moved to usher Sara outside, the room quickly filling with more doctors. Sara watched as long as she could before the door swung shut, the last vision filling her mind was that of Greg being held down by three others.

Holding a hand to her mouth she cried quietly, her body still trembling as she began to pace up and down the bland hallway. Reaching with her free hand into her back pocket, she dialed Grissom's number, trying her best to keep herself together.

But when his voice came over the phone, she found herself crying again, unable to talk. She noted bitterly how Grissom's tone changed to one of concern as he questioned her.

"It's Greg," she finally managed to say, an uncomfortable pause coming between them as she continued to cry, still pacing back and forth outside of the door.

"Sara…what happened?" Grissom asked quietly, and Sara shook her head slowly.

"Something's wrong, I…I think he's having a seizure, or a heart attack or…or something…I can't see what's going on, they…they won't let me in the room."

"I'm on my way," Grissom reassured her, ending the call shortly after. Sara was left to herself again as she paced worriedly. Ten minutes passed, then twenty…Grissom arrived, and she was forced to recount the terrifying ordeal. Then they waited for several more minutes.

Nearly and hour had passed since they heard anything. Sara had finally given up pacing, sitting with her back against the wall. Grissom sat on the small chairs next to her, the two not speaking. The longer they waited, the more time she had to worry, but at the same time, she was afraid to see what they had to say. Her imagination ran wild; what would she find beyond those doors? What had they done to him? Was Greg even still alive?

The door opened, the first doctor stopping to speak with them as the other two left, the door shutting once again before Sara had a chance to peek inside. The doctor was closer to Grissom's age, a bit shorter however. He was bald, his hair thinning around the sides, making the idea that his hair being ruffled seemingly impossible.

"We can assuredly say that Mr. Sanders is out of his coma," he told them quietly, "but he had to be restrained and sedated in order to calm him down enough to remove the ventilator"

"But he's okay?" Sara asked breathing a sigh of relief as the doctor nodded. She didn't believe in restraints, and the thought of Greg being treated in such a way would have normally angered her, but she was too relieved to worry at the moment. "Can I see him now?"

"I'm afraid not, his behavior has shown that he is potentially violent and suicidal. I don't think visitors are such a good idea now."

"Greg is not suicidal," Sara stated, her voice rising. "Or violent, he's just scared. He's been through a lot."

She wasn't aware that Grissom was holding her back until she tried to take another step forward. The doctor didn't look impressed in the very least, and he frowned at her actions. "I'm sorry, it's regulation; he's been placed under a 72 hour watch. After those hours have passed, then you can see him."

"Three days?" Sara cried, turning to look back up at Grissom. "I can't wait three days. I've been waiting so long for him to wake up, so that I can see him, talk with him. And now the moment he wakes up you tell me I have to wait for three days? Have you ever thought how that seems to Greg? He's done nothing for almost two weeks now, and now you're telling him he has to wait longer?"

"Sara, Sara," Grissom cut her off, squeezing her shoulder gently. She bit her lip, sniffing quietly, still staring at the doctor.

"If I may, Mr…."

"Nyves," the doctor replied, still frowning as he folded his arms.

"Mr. Nyves. It has been pointed out that there is a quicker recovery time if there is emotional support. I believe that Sara seeing Greg will only help to aid that. Would you please reconsider? After all, I'm sure a man of your intelligence knows that."

Nyves seemed to be taken aback by his comment, and for a moment he didn't speak. He nodded though, rubbing his chin as he sighed, composing himself. "Well of course I do. But like I said before, it is regulation, but perhaps I can make a special arrangement."

Grissom nodded at the offering, watching as the doctor walked away. Sara turned towards him, throwing her arms around his neck as she gave him a hug. Startled, he returned the embrace after a moment, watching her as she pulled away.

"Thank you," she whispered, "I don't know how you do it, but you always do."

Grissom smiled at her, nodding. "You just have to know how to talk in their language."

"Which is easy for you," she told him quietly, glancing back up as the doctor returned, nodding towards the door.

Moving towards the door, she paused when she noticed that Grissom hadn't followed. "You coming?" she asked him quietly.

He shook his head, still smiling at her. "You go ahead, I'll give you some alone time first."

She returned his smile, turning the handle and pushing her way inside. The room was darker with the door closed, but she was hesitant about leaving it opened. She gave Greg a warm smile when she saw him watching her, his eyes barely open.

With the ventilator now off, he was drawing in heavy, ragged grasps of breath, a sound that was unnerving, but at least he was breathing on his own. She could see the skin around his mouth was bruised, scratches running up and down, remnants from his earlier actions.

Small leather straps had been used at his wrists and elbows, and the IV had been carefully reinserted. After taking in the situation, Sara let out a shaky breath, moving to sit next to him. His eyes followed her movements, but never once did he try to speak.

Uncomfortable at the silence, Sara moved to start a conversation. After all this time, Greg was actually awake, she should be happy, but her worry only escalated.

"Hey," she said softly, smiling at him.

Greg responded only by staring at her through heavily lidded eyes, he breathing still shaky as he watched her. Sara reached out slowly to touch his face, surprised as he turned away quickly, staring at the ceiling now.

Both hurt and surprised by his actions, Sara withdrew her hand, reminding herself that Greg wasn't exactly coherent at the time being. Instead of trying to say anything further, she just watched him, his eyes blinking in attempt to stay open as they drooped closed.

"Where am I?"

His voice was rough, nearly gone. It was surprise to hear him like that. Swallowing Sara leaned forward, resting her arms on the bed.

"You're in the hospital, Desert Palms," she told him quietly, thankful for some conversation at least. "You were in the accident…we were," she added.

Greg turned his head towards her slowly, blinking a few times. "We know each other," he stated, watching her expression.

Sara looked down, sighing. "Look Greg, I know you're mad at me, but don't be like this, you can be mad at me when you're better. You've had me worried sick."

"I'm mad at you?" Greg wondered quietly, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Stop it Greg," Sara warned him, frowning now. "You're scaring me."

Greg shook his head lightly, looking back up to the ceiling. "I don't remember."

"Of course you do," she told him firmly, all the while the fear slowly building up inside her. If this was a joke, she would kill him later for it. By no means was this funny.

"No…I don't remember anything," he told her quietly. "I've been trying to think of something…anything…but there's nothing there…"

Sara didn't say anything, only watched as he turned back towards her, unshed tears glistening in his eyes as he closed them. "I don't remember."

**TBC…**


	11. Learning

**Okay, so it's a short post, but it will prb be the last post out of all my stories until the end of this month. I'll try and squeeze one more chapter maybe out of another story before I leave. I tried to be nice and not leave it at a 'massive' cliffhanger, seeing that it would be a while before I updated again.**

**Yes, I know I'm rambling. Only one last thing to say here, **

**Keep reviewing! I love your comments! It's fuel for my story drive!**

**Chapter Eleven: Learning**

The steps never ceased, the clipping of the shoes against the white tile echoed through his head, adding onto the headache that already resided there. He rubbed his eyes wearily, muttering a few curses under his breath. Glancing up, he met Sara's gaze briefly as she turned around, continuing her pacing.

"Sara," he pleaded lightly, "sit down. You're making me nervous."

She turned to him, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're nervous?" she questioned. "How do you think I feel?"

Grissom held her gaze evenly, not saying anything. With a scowl she turned around, continuing to pace despite his pleading. It had been two hours now since they had heard anything. He had little idea of what was going on, only knowing that something had freaked Sara out, and she being very reluctant in talking about it.

He watched her pace, watched her lips move in silent muttering. It was hard to catch what she saying, even if he was able to read lips. Though it was obvious that it was about Greg, and it only increased his worry.

"He'll be okay," he sounded in another feeble attempt to stop her incessant pacing.

It had worked, but not in the way he had expected. She had turned on him then, her eyes narrowing. "Is that all you can say?" she asked him, coming closer now. "You realize that is all you have said since all of this happened? You haven't done anything to help; you weren't the one who was with him when the accident happened; you weren't the one who was with him when he woke up."

Her breath caught for a moment as she turned away. When she faced him again, there were tears in her eyes that she was hastily wiping away. "You weren't the one…you weren't there when he…"

"What happened?" Grissom asked quietly, her outburst still a shock to him. Though the way she was talking now worried him even more.

She shook her head slowly, sitting down next to him as she continued to cry. Leaning one hand against her forehead, she continued to cry, biting her lip in attempt to stop. She was trembling lightly, and Grissom hung his head, unsure of how to comfort her. It was a skill he never mastered.

Next to him, Sara slowly dried her eyes, sitting up slowly. "I…I don't think he can remember anything," she whispered softly. "He doesn't remember the accident…doesn't know where he is…he couldn't even remember my name."

Grissom nodded, understanding somewhat now. "I'm sure it's just temporarily," he encouraged her. "Taking in consideration everything that has happened. He's been hurt pretty bad, and being on all the drugs for the pain, and adding the sedatives and restraints…a person can only handle so much. He's a little overwhelmed now. Give a few days; he'll be back to normal before you know."

Sara sniffed, wiping off the remaining tears as she sighed. "I wish I was as confident as you are," she stated softly.

"Hey now," Grissom nodded towards her, "he's made it this far. That's better than anyone had expected. Just give him some more time, he'll pull through."

"Then why is it taking them so long," Sara asked, her voice dropping into a whine. "It doesn't take two hours to figure out that he's okay."

Grissom shook his head, turning away. "I don't know," he admitted. "I really don't."

Lowering her head she bit her lip, concentrating on her breathing. The pair looked up as the door opened, the young nurse that had spoken with them prior to going in nodded to both in a small greeting. She rubbed her head wearily as she sat down across from them, folding her legs as she placed her hands in her lap.

"We have spent these last two hours with Mr. Sanders now, both observing and testing him; asking him a series of questions. In the accident, Mr. Sanders received major trauma to the head, the cause for his coma. Of course there are also other problems that we cannot see until the patient is awake, and it involves a whole course of possibilities. We have, determined that Mr. Sanders has what we like to call retrograde amnesia, which means that he is unable to remember anything…"

"Prior to the accident," Grissom interjected, shaking his head lightly as he cursed under his breath.

The nurse nodded, a grim expression on her face as Sara lowered her head. "Are you certain?" she breathed.

The nurse nodded again. "Now, Mr. Sanders has been doing very well under our short observation and I believe that with plenty of rest, and encouragement from his friends and family, he should be able to regain most of his memory again. It's only a matter of time."

Sara brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, looking up at the nurse. "How much time are we talking about?" she asked worriedly.

She was saddened to see the nurse shrug. "No one really ever knows, there isn't a way to tell really. He could wake up tomorrow and remember everything, or fifty years later he could remember as much as he does now. Sometimes they remember in small pieces, sometimes it comes all at one time."

Sara nodded solemnly, looking down once more. She felt Grissom reach over and take a hold of her hand, but she did not acknowledge the gesture. The news of Greg's condition was still sinking in, hitting her like a ton of bricks. How long? How long would this turmoil go on? Grissom had said it himself…_a person can only handle so much. _How much more could Greg handle, before he finally gave up?

**TBC**


	12. Passing Time

**Many thanks to all of my wonderful reviewers. One of these days I'll get proper responses up, although I'm not sure when that'll be. In the meantime, your reviews, as I have said before, are what inspire me to write on!**

**Chapter Twelve: Passing Time**

It had been months, many, many months now, since the accident had taken place. During this time, there had been a lot that had happen. So much in fact, that it was sometimes confusing to try and sort it all out.

Greg had steadily improved, in physical terms at least. It was rather amazing that throughout everything, Greg had received minimal damage, aside from the blow to his head. From the time he woke from his coma, he was constantly in and out of reality. It was hard for any visitors to catch him awake.

At first, Sara stayed by his side constantly, leaving for short times to take care of personal business, but never left the hospital grounds. Talking with him was uncomfortable at first, not knowing what to say, and being careful of the words that she let slip past her lips, afraid to say anything that would remind him of the simple fact he couldn't remember anything. Yet, as time passed, conversation became easier. Although she did most of the talking, she found out that Greg actually enjoyed listening to her talk, and often would bring up questions regarding his past.

The hardest adjustment she had to make was her reaction to his personality. She knew that Greg was still healing, and that alone drained him of his energy, but she still couldn't stand to see him so quiet. As the weeks passed, and he began to move around, attending to physical therapy, and responding to treatments, his questions died down, and she found herself faced with the same odd quietness, though more often now.

Sara convinced herself that these changes were normal. After all Greg was dealing with a lot of information, and quite a bit of stress. The therapy was hard on him; she could see that it took a great deal of his energy to move around at first. After the first few sessions he did nothing but sleep for hours upon hours.

As time passed, Sara returned to work again, nearly full time. She herself was fully healed now, bearing only hidden scars of worry and fright. Her nightmares had only increased with all the latest happenings, and despite how often she convinced herself that things would get better, nothing changed.

They had no leads, nothing at all in to who had done the damage. The case was still open, but Sara alone, was certain Grissom was going to close it sometime soon. She could see it in his eyes, the way he looked whenever he passed her, or whenever Greg was brought up. It wouldn't surprise her, after all, if it was a normal case, it would have been closed long ago. They CSI team hadn't had a lead since a few weeks after the incident.

As for the serial case, the killings had died down. Their last killing had been nearly three weeks ago, marking their 14th victim. They had learned little since then, and it was a discouraging thought. Grissom was sure that there were two killers; one working as an accomplice, snatching the victims, while the other did the actual murder. No connection between the victims had been found, finally being dubbed as a random selection, perhaps choosing people that were alone, people that were easy targets.

Sara shook her head. It was right, and it frustrated her that there was nothing they could do about it. All the while their lab was receiving coarse remarks from the public; questions were arising, demanding for answers to what was going to be done about it all. She was surprised with the grace Ecklie handled it all, but it wasn't a shock when he turned on them. It had angered her further when Ecklie brought Greg into the whole ordeal, stating that Greg's condition was a distraction.

Sara hadn't let off lightly when that was brought out. She had been in full motion to counter him, and had her mind set to show Ecklie exactly how she felt about his opinions. If it wasn't for Nick holding her back, she would have followed through as well. The simple thought still infuriated her. If she didn't want to run the risk of losing her job, she would make certain he knew exactly how she felt.

Sara huffed lightly, shaking her thought as she nearly felt her blood boil. She needed to calm down; it wasn't safe to drive when she was this angry. Over the last few weeks, her moods had been changing swiftly. She had been snappy with the rest, and Ecklie's constant comments about her anger, and her relationship with Greg hadn't been helping.

The drive to the hospital was routine now. She parked in the back parking lot, finding it a quicker walk up to Greg's room. Being here often enough, she had learned the staff quite well. They often visited her while she was walking down the hall, a quick stretch for her tired legs while Greg was resting, or when the doctors were with him. It had made the times pass by quicker.

Even as she walked up to the building, she could feel the difference. Her mood became more upbeat as she bounded up the stairs towards the door, the sun shining down on her back. Lifting her sunglasses from her face she pushed past the doors into the air-conditioned lobby, a small bag tucked under her arm.

By the time she got the room, Greg was already dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed, a newspaper in his hand. He glanced up as she entered, giving her a meek smile as he turned his attention back down to the paper.

"So," she said in greeting as she made her way over. "You ready to get out of here, or should I leave you to your paper for a few more minutes?"

Greg scooted over to allow her room to sit down as he shrugged his shoulders. "Just trying to keep up with the world," he stated quietly, folding the paper in his lap. "But I won't keep you waiting."

Sara gave him an apologetic smile, but said nothing more. Greg had changed, there was little more anyone could say on that matter. He was shy, withdrawn even. Normally, he would not pass up a jest like that, and she missed his witty comebacks. Silently she reminded herself that he would get better with time. It was an improvement from several months ago, considering he wasn't even supposed to live through the ordeal.

Her thoughts changing as she clutched the brown bag in her hand, she looked back up at Greg, who hadn't spoken since either. Slowly she offered the bag to him, which he took after a moment, giving her a confused look.

"It's just a small something everyone pitched in for you, sort of a 'congratulations, you made it' present," she nodded towards him as he slowly unfolded the bag.

Swallowing lightly Greg shook his head, "I can't take this," he said quietly, the new ipod clutched in his hands.

"Of course you can," Sara rested her hand on top of his, sighing as he pulled away. It was another thing that had changed; Greg hadn't returned any of her affections, and it was clear that he wasn't open to them either.

"You lost your old one in the crash, and it was their idea, not mine," She added quietly.

"I don't need this…" Greg muttered, shaking his head. "I don't even know how to use one…not anymore at least."

"You'll learn," Sara encouraged him, sighing as he slipped it back inside the bag. "Just give it a try, for everyone else. They'd be upset if you didn't accept it, after all they went through to get it for you."

Greg nodded slowly, his face passive as he stared ahead at the wall. "Are we going to leave now?"

Sara gave him a small smile, nodding towards the door. Greg slowly pushed himself up, heading for the exit as she hung behind. Swallowing, Sara lowered her head, staring at the ground for a moment. She had been thrilled since waking up earlier that day, knowing that Greg was being released from the hospital. She had gone around, tidied up the apartment, even swinging by the store to pick up some of Greg's favorite foods.

She had been so engaged in her activities that she had forgotten that Greg needed to be picked up, and in turn, had been late in doing so. With a sigh she raised her head, coming to a stop as her gaze fell on the paper Greg had been reading earlier.

Picking it up slowly, she unfolded it to the page Greg had marked, shaking her head as she read the article. It was about him, which wasn't a surprise. Several news stations had been following his story since the crash, rumors unfolding everywhere. Several reports had tried talking with her, but she had disregarded all their questions. She was thankful that the hospital staff didn't allow them inside to speak with Greg.

What was a surprise was the simple fact he had found it. Then again, why wouldn't he? Left alone to himself most of the time since she had resumed full time work, Greg had plenty of opportunity to scour the papers. How many more articles had he come across that were about him? She had no real way of telling, she herself didn't follow the news closely. It was happening right in front of her, and she what was fact, and what was fiction. The thought that troubled her more was how much Greg had believed of the story?

Folding the paper back up quickly, she left it on the bed, making her way out the door. Greg was waiting in the hallway for her, his hands in his pockets. He looked up, though briefly before matching her stride as they made their to the front desk. Sara thought of bringing up the article, but decided against it. The last thing she wanted was to have Greg feel as though she was watching him behind his back. Trust was slight between them, if it was there at all.

Sure Greg said that he trusted her, but she could tell in the way he carried himself that he still was unsure of everything. She couldn't blame him either; after all, exactly how would she be if she were in his situation?

**TBC**


	13. Back at Home

**Chapter Thirteen: Back at Home **

The ride to the apartment was silent. Although Sara tried several times to start a conversation, it seemed as though Greg was lost in thought, staring aimlessly out the car window. Never once did he even turn to look at her as she commented on several different topics, trying to spark some interest. Then the realization hit her slowly that Greg no longer had anything of interest. It was if he was seeing the world for the first time. In some aspects it was fun to watch him, as he explored every detail as much as he could as they drove past, but deep inside her heart ached.

She longed for Greg to break out of the shell that he was contained in, longed to be able to look into his eyes and see the person that she had fallen in love with so long ago. Even worse was the simple fact that she couldn't talk to anyone about it. No one else would understand. Besides, Greg had enough of his own problems, and she would busy enough herself keeping behind him. There was no need to drag anyone else into this mess.

Even though Greg was fine by physical means, his moods had been unstable. Sara feared the worst for him, but she couldn't let her emotions show like that. The last thing Greg needed now was utter chaos.

She had taken the day off for this reason; Grissom and the others were well aware that Greg was being released from the hospital that day. They had offered to help, but Sara had disinclined. This was something she and Greg needed to do alone. At the same time she felt it would be best if Greg's first night back home was a quiet one.

When they did stop, Greg wasn't the first to exit the vehicle. Instead, he sat there after taking of his seatbelt, staring out the front window at the building in front of him. Sara came to the other side, opening the door, looking in on him.

"Are you coming?" Sara asked, her voice teasing a little bit.

Greg nodded, glancing from her, then back to the building. "Yeah," he muttered softly, holding onto the door as he climbed out. Sara closed the door behind him as Greg waited to follow her up the stairs. The apartment was on the second floor, clear to the ride side of the building, next to the outer stairwell.

Sara unlocked the door, holding it open for Greg who seemed cautious of going in at first. Just inside, Greg paused, surveying his surroundings. His look was one of uncertainty, and he jumped when Sara closed the door behind her, sending the place into darkness.

He had turned to look back at Sara, relieved when she finally turned on the light, meeting her concerned expression.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, looking away from her. "The dark kind of bothers me. I always had to have a light on in the hospital room."

"It's okay," Sara told him, placing a hand on his lower arm. He shrugged away uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor as would a young child being reprimanded. "We're all scared of something Greg," Sara continued, trying to ignore the hurt she was feeling.

"I'm not scared," Greg argued, looking back up at her once again. "It's just…I don't know…I feel trapped."

Sara nodded in understanding, making her way into the kitchen. Dropping her purse on the counter she grabbed the handful of mail that was stacked in one corner, sorting through it as Greg made his way in slowly.

"I'm making some lasagna, for tonight," she told him, watching from the corner of her eye as he entered the living room. "I'm not the best of cooks, to be honest I've never cooked lasagna before, so I don't know how it'll turn out. But if it's not good we could always call in for something."

"We live here?" Greg said suddenly, causing her to look up. "Together?"

Sara nodded, blushing as he looked at her. "I'm sorry; I must have forgotten to tell you. There are just so many things on my mind." She let out a sigh, looking back down to the bills in her hands. "If it bothers you, I could always find somewhere else to stay," she offered, swallowing as she did so.

Greg shook his head quickly. "No…no, I'm just trying to figure things out." He sounded sincere, but still Sara wasn't fully convinced. All the same she felt relieved. She couldn't bear it if Greg had asked her to leave. She loved him too much for that.

"I'm not trying to pressure you," she told him quietly. "I want you to feel comfortable. If there's anything you want, don't hesitate to ask."

Greg lifted his gaze to meet hers, his look sadden by the last comment. "I want to remember," he said quietly.

Sara dropped her gaze quickly, unable to look at him anymore. Placing the bills down, she grabbed her purse, slinging the strap over her shoulder. "I'm going to go for a walk," she told him, her voice quiet and withdrawn. "I won't be gone long, give me a call if you need anything, you remember my number?"

Greg nodded slowly, giving her enough of a confirmation before she left. The warm afternoon air greeted her as she made her way down the stairs, tears stinging her eyes as she came to a stop on the bottom floor. Hastily she pulled her phone out, dialing the first number that came to her mind.

The ringing echoed in her ears, as she prayed for someone to answer, and she wasn't disappointed. No sooner than the voice had come on she was already talking.

"You think you could spare some time? I really need someone to talk to," she whispered, wiping away her tears. She nodded, even though the other person couldn't see her actions. Her gaze lifted up to the ramp above her, a part of her wondering if it was the best idea to leave Greg alone.

"Yeah, ten minutes, got it. I'll see you there," she confirmed, ending the call. Her gaze still lingered on the ramp above her, but only for a moment as she moved to the car, climbing inside.

She didn't see the pair of eyes that were watching her from above as she pulled out, the form, shaded from the lights inside watched for a moment longer before releasing the curtain, letting it fall back in place.

**TBC**


	14. Helping Hands

**R2R at the end! Thanks to all that have been with me thus far!**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen- Helping Hands**

Sara let out a sigh as she pushed her way through the endless crowd, standing on her tiptoes in order to see around the crowded joint. She wasn't sure why Nick had chosen this place, the both of them knew it was always busy, even more so at this hour. True, she should've said something while she still had him on the phone, but it hadn't crossed her mind.

"Excuse me," Sara muttered under her breath as a man strolling by knocked her sideways. The man didn't even pause to make sure she was okay, as he continued his lumbering stride towards the door, pushing his way through everyone else.

She supposed that was the only practical way to get in and out of this place. Pulling the strap of her purse over her shoulder, Sara stood on her tiptoes once more, smiling when she finally saw him.

Lucky for her, Nick had chosen the table clear in back, leaving her the only choice to push the rest of the way through, earning questionable glances from everyone else.

"This is crazy," Sara muttered, sitting down across from him. "They need someone in here just to direct traffic."

Nick shrugged, scanning over the menu he held in his hands. "I just used the back door," he stated calmly.

Sara lifted her gaze to meet his. "There a back door?" she questioned lightly, frowning when he nodded.

"You ordering anything?" Nick asked, looking up as the waiter came by. Sara quickly shook her head, waiting as he ordered a light lunch. Sara had forgotten that his shift started in little over an hour.

"What did you want to talk about?" Nick questioned after the waiter had gone. "It's about Greg, isn't it?"

Sara nodded slowly, rubbing her head. "I just don't know what to do," she told him quietly. "It seems the more I try to reach out to him, the further he pulls away. I don't know what I'm doing half the time."

"Give him time," Nick suggested, surprised when she shook her head.

"How much time? It's been months, you'd think he'd come through by now. He's barely even talking to me anymore. It's like…I don't know how to explain it."

"You've given so much more than anyone else has Sara," Nick told her gently, reaching over with a hand to grasp hers. "Don't be so quick to give up on him. The rest of us are here for him too. You don't have to do this alone."

"I just want him to be himself again," she muttered quietly, her gaze drifting downwards.

Nick let go of her hand quickly as his meal was brought, neither saying anything more until the waiter had left once again. "We all do," Nick reminded her, eating a stray fry. He offered her some, but she shook her head. She couldn't eat, not now anyways.

"Just give him some space," he stated, talking with his mouth full. "Greg has always been independent. Let him still have some of that, make him comfortable. Just take it one step at a time, give him what he wants."

_If only I could, _Sara thought bitterly, but instead she forced a smile. "I'm trying."

"I know you are," Nick nodded towards her, taking another bite. Somehow she wasn't convinced that he was being sincere, but she didn't press the matter. After all, she had been the one to call him.

"It's going to be even harder for Greg since Ecklie pulled the trigger."

Sara lifted her gaze, frowning up at him. "What do you mean Ecklie pulled the trigger?"

Nick met her gaze, a skeptical look crossing his face. "You didn't hear? Grissom said he was going to call you about it."

"I guess he forgot my number," Sara stated sarcastically. "What did Ecklie do?"

"He's refused to let Greg work on any cases. Says that it's too much of a liability. At the most he's only going to let Greg shuffle paperwork, run errands and so forth."

"He can't do that," Sara straightened up, her hands clasping in front of her. "The doctors want him back on routine in order to help jog his memory. If we start switching stuff on him now, how's he ever going to know anything?"

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger," Nick warned. "Grissom's trying to work something out, but I don't where he's gotten with it. Knowing Ecklie it's probably not very far."

Sara shook her head, sighing as she stood up. "I've got to get going," she told him quickly, already heading towards the back door.

"Hey," Nick's voice caused her to turn back towards him, breaking her stride momentarily.

"If you're going to kill Ecklie, I want to be there to see it," he stated, laughing softly.

Sara returned a small smile, before continuing through the doors.

* * *

She had been upset when Nick had first told her. Now she was even more so that she was right in front of him, and he was still refusing. Grissom was behind her, backing her opinions. But the answer still remained the same.

Ecklie shook his head, collecting the scattered papers across his desk, shuffling them back into a file folder. "I can't allow it," he told him, reaching across the surface of his desk to grab a loose paper.

"Greg needs all the help he can get," Sara stated defensively. "He hasn't come this far just to be stopped by you."

"It's cute how you put it," Ecklie scoffed, sliding the folder back into a cabinet. "Blame it all on me; I'm such a bad person. I have to protect this lab. If word got out that an amnesiac is working here, you have any idea how the public will take that?"

"His name is Greg," Sara reminded him coldly. "The only way he's going to remember is through here. He can do the work; he just needs someone to teach him."

"And that costs money," Ecklie pointed out, taking a seat in his plush sized chair.

"Not if we train him," Sara argued, taking a step towards him. Grissom's hand on her shoulder held her back.

"You aren't certified to train anyone," Ecklie pointed out.

"I trained him before," Sara continued her argument. "What difference does this make?"

"First off, Sanders knew how to do most of the work, you were just supervising, secondly Grissom was the one who trained him."

"Sara did as much as the work as I did," Grissom spoke up quickly before Sara could fire back a response. He stepped in closer, taking one of the smaller chairs as a seat. "If we all took turns training him, in various areas of the lab and out in the field, I don't think that it would take long for him to remember what he is doing."

"And if he screws up, who is there to take the blame? We can't have criminals running loose because of some incompetent employee can't remember a single thing."

"How can you blame this on Greg? This isn't his fault, we could have been killed, hell, he was supposed to die, but he's here against all odds. He's done more than any of us could have, why do you continue to downgrade him?"

Sara's outburst was met with silence, and a steady glare from Grissom. He was able to speak without words, and right now the glare was telling her that she was treading dangerous waters.

Ecklie however, didn't respond to her comment right away. Slowly he lifted her head to meet her gaze, frowning at her. "The reputation lab needs to be protected. We are the finest crime lab in the state. I won't have that going to waste because of one person."

"And it won't," Grissom argued quickly. "Greg won't be left alone in anything, and if something happens, I'll take the blame for it. But I know Greg, he's a fast learner, we won't have any problems."

Ecklie let out a long sigh, shaking his head. He was quiet for a moment, speaking up right before Grissom was about to continue. "Fine, but only because I'm such a nice guy. The first mistake, either by his fault or yours, he's gone. Do I make myself clear?"

Grissom nodded, glancing over his shoulder at Sara. She was still unhappy, but there was little he could do about it. At the moment all they were doing was scraping the surface of a shell. When time passed, they would be able to break through; all they needed was the time.

**TBC**

* * *

**R2R-**

**Unlikely-to-bear-it**

Yep, she did call Nick :D Greg faking it? Hmm…maybe, maybe not. He's going to be going through a lot more before….:D that's enough said.

**CatherineLouise**

Smiles will be coming next chapter, I promise. Greg needs some smiles, needs to feel better, before the angst starts up again.

**LuvinNickyStokes**

Glad you're still here with me :D

I had a hard time writing some of this, and still will, trying not be influenced with all the tv shows and cartoons of ppl having amnesia, and it is really hard. I'm trying to make it realistic, but since I've never seen it happen in RL it's been hard.

**Sugar Pill**

Of course nothing ever settles down for them! Where would all the excitement be, lol. Greg's going to be doing a lot of adjusting throughout the story. Still have a lot more planned. I'm glad you're liking the story, and that you've started your own, I love it, lol. Interested to see where you're going with it

**Austin B**

I miss the old Greg as well, and that will start to become evident with the others as time passes. Will he come back? Hmm….

And I'm glad you like all the stories so far. Funnily enough I started off with one, now I have…too many to keep up with :P

**LocoGreggo**

Yes, I will keep going, I'm glad you're liking the story. Keep reviewing!

**jewelbaby**

I was debating to have her call Nick or Grissom, but I choose Nick on two reasons, one- for more emotional support, two- for more character interaction. There's been some heavy focus on Greg, Sara, and Grissom. I want to get some of the other characters in the story now.

**Lizzy Sidle-**

Lol, no stalker, not yet anyways. That would be Greg watching her go, after her telling him she would be right back, and he sees her leave…a bit of angst. Lol, don't shoot him!

And yes, you've been with me since the start, so you get extra thanks! hands out cookies

Does Greg still remember how hot he is? That one I don't know, lol!

**frickangel**

Greg will be hurting for a while more, but that's all I'll say for now.

**Gator-Girl**

I'm glad you like the story so far! Don't forget to review!

**candy**

Thanks for the nice comments, please keep reviewing, I love reading them all!

**wdbydoglvr**

From what I've read, hitting someone on the head doesn't reverse. But since I'm not a doctor, I don't really know. I've never have used an iPod before, pretty scary huh? I wouldn't know how to use it either.

**shadowwind**

Well, the reviews certainly inspire me to write faster :D

Keep writing though, if you stop, then you ever get done

**Jenny70529**

Hey girl, hope you're feeling a little better. I'll have the next part in next chapter, that I told you about. I'll have to thank you again for all your help so far. Thanks for all your support and reviews as well! Though I'm anxious to see your next update, hint, hint

**kitsune07**

Thanks for the comment! That means a lot to me. I haven't read any other stories where he loses his memory though. I don't know what stories are my favorite, sometimes I feel like doing a poll to see who likes the best of them all. I try to keep all the characters in character, it's on of my biggest pet peeves when they're not. I'm not saying I keep them in character all the time, but I do try.

**Lalenna**

It really does have to be hard on Sara, which is a great angst feature, of course. Thanks for all the reviews!

**Ria Erif**

Thanks for your comments! I love Greg/Sara being together, and I hope to see more reviews from you, I love reading your thoughts.

**Tripp3235**

I love doing Sara and Greg interaction, but you already knew that, didn't you? I miss seeing your reviews, they're so thoughtful!

**Of course, thanks to everyone else that is reading and reviewing, I love reading what you guys have to say!**


	15. Predictions

**I had planned to have this up earlier, but with this last week, it's been hard. Between working full time, haying after work, doctor visits, and going dumpster diving after my boss' purse was stolen (that was interesting), and a memorial, I really haven't had the time or the strength to write. **

**So, it's an extra long chapter to make up for the wait!**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Predictions **

The apartment was dark by the time she returned. Only the small table lamp near the phone had been left on, illuminating the entryway. Sara hesitated in turning it on, dropping her purse off on the counter. Turning round she slid the upper lock into place, before making her way into the kitchen.

She had been gone longer than she had originally thought, and Greg was no longer in the front area. Though it was apparent he had helped himself to dinner, the stray plate and cup resting in the sink.

Sara pulled open the door to the refrigerator, already knowing that Greg had finished the leftover pizza. That left her with a couple of beers, a yogurt container, as well as a partially frozen lasagna container. Even though she hadn't eaten the entire day, she didn't feel the least bit hungry. Hunger wasn't something she dealt with too much after the accident.

Closing the door with a sigh, Sara made her way down towards the bedroom, coming to a stop just inside the doorway. Crossing her arms in front of her, she let out a small smile as she leaned against the wall.

Greg was curled up on one side of the bed, facing towards the bathroom door. He was still dressed in the same clothes as he was in earlier, one hand resting against his face, the other lying flat near his stomach.

Moving quietly, Sara set herself down on the edge of the bed, taking care not to disturb him. When she was certain he was truly asleep, she lifted her hand, running her fingers lightly across his face. He stirred under her administrations, and Sara pulled away, just long enough to ensure that he wasn't waking up.

It was when he was sleeping at times like this that Sara liked to be by his side. It was then that she could pretend nothing was wrong, pretend that when he woke up, he would be the Greg she had fallen in love with.

She sat there, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, his quiet breaths filling the spaces between them. His hair was still growing back, though much shorter than any of them had been used to. She was fairly certain that in a few months it would be back to its normal length. The only downside was to how he styled it.

The past few months Greg had just let it lay flat. She missed the wild and crazy look he had adopted years ago. Still, it was a trick he had mastered himself, and he hadn't taken time to show anyone else. Sara had thought about trying it out once, backing off only because she decided that there were other things of more importance. His hair could wait.

She forced another smile, running her free hand through his hair. "I hope that you know that I love you," she whispered to him. "I'll be here whenever you need me, don't forget that."

She let out another sigh, before leaving the bedside. It had been a hard decision to make, something that she had thought about for months while Greg recovered in the hospital. Still, she had come to the decision that it would be best if they slept separately, until Greg was feeling more open. The last thing she wanted to do was push him further away.

Crossing the room she came to a stop at their dresser, pulling out a pair of pajama bottoms, and an oversized t-shirt. She changed quickly, tossing her old clothes in the hamper just inside the door before claiming a single pillow, and light blanket at the end of the bed. Whispering her goodnights, she left him there in the darkness, settling herself down on the couch.

* * *

Sara shifted lightly, blinking open her eyes. She wasn't sure what had woken her, but something obviously had. She glanced over her shoulder at the clock, the green numbers reading ten minutes after 11. Normally she would be awake during this time; but with Greg being in the hospital, as well as her own injuries and nightmares continually plaguing her, it was a rarity when she ever did sleep. For now, she would take what she could get.

It was then she heard it again, the distant ringing of a phone; her cell phone that was, still resting in her purse that sat on the counter. Groaning, Sara sat up slowly, ignoring the ache in her neck. The carpet was soft beneath her feet, passing off to a chill as she walked across the tile in the kitchen.

She managed to get her phone out on the fourth ring, right before it went to her voice mail. Checking the caller ID, she wasn't surprised to see it was Grissom. Sara already had the nagging feeling that he was going to call her in. Of course, he hadn't let her down.

The call didn't last very long; she ended the call after agreeing to come in. She leaned against the counter, fiddling with the small phone. She turned it over in her hands, fighting off a yawn. Any other night, she wouldn't have been this tired. The trouble was that she had already fallen asleep. She could work on no sleep, waking up was the hard part.

Shaking off the worn feeling, Sara dropped the phone back into her purse, shuffling down to the bedroom. She watched Greg here for a moment, debating with herself whether to wake him, or to let him sleep longer. After all, rest was the best for him at this point. Then again, if he woke up, and found that she was gone, how would he react?

Making her way over, she crouched down low, shaking his shoulder gently. It only took a few tries; after all, Greg wasn't exactly a heavy sleeper. Groaning her opened his eyes, blinking several times in order to focus on her.

She gave him a warm smile, turning on the bedside lamp. "Work called, I have to go in. Do you want to come along? See where you work?"

Greg rolled over onto his back, rubbing his face wearily. Even though he had slept a great deal longer than Sara had, he still felt tired. Staring up at the ceiling he cleared his throat. "I suppose," he stated, "better than staying here."

Sara nodded, agreeing with him quietly. "You want to take a shower first?"

"No," Greg mentioned, sitting up and scooting back so that he was resting against the headboard. "I'll be fine for now."

Sara smiled at him, already standing. "Okay then, I'm going to jump in the shower real quick myself and change, then we'll be on our way. We don't have too much here to eat, but help yourself to whatever if you're hungry."

Greg only nodded, watching her as she pulled out fresh clothes. She didn't meet his gaze as she disappeared into the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind her.

He had spent the better part of the day waiting for her to come back. Greg knew the reason she had left was because of him, he could see it in the way she had looked at him. He hadn't meant to frighten her, yet lately, it seemed whatever he did upset her even more.

Stretching, he pulled the covers off, slipping on his shoes that sat right below him. After deciding that she wasn't coming back anytime soon, he had gone to sleep. Though he had barely done anything, he felt weary. He remembered the doctors telling him that he would be sleeping more often in the first few weeks.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Greg wondered dimly if he should get something to eat. He finally decided against it, the pizza from earlier had kept him satisfied. It tasted a bit old, but it certainly was a lot better than what they served at the hospital. Greg made a slight face, standing up after tying his last shoe. All he had to do now was wait.

* * *

Sara took a breath before stepping back under the showerhead, the warm water cascading down around her body. Showers were something she took often; with the warm desert air, and considering her job she didn't have much of a choice. She couldn't stand the feeling of sweat and grime, and the smell of decaying flesh was even worse. There had been days where she had taken countless showers, all having little success.

Running her hands over her face one last time, Sara reached out and turned the faucet off, wiping the water from her eyes. Pulling back the curtain, Sara grasped her towel that was hanging on the rack, pressing the soft cotton against her face. It was here she paused, taking in a deep breath, the faint aroma tickling her nose.

It still had traces of Greg's cologne on it, something he didn't wear too often. When he worked back in the lab, he wore it often enough, Sara being able to catch a hint of it whenever she came close enough. When he moved out into the field he had stopped wearing it, taking advice from Catherine.

Still, when the two had the night off, and went out together, Greg would dab some on before the left the apartment, ignoring her taunting remarks. Sara smiled sadly, the memories so vivid in her mind. That was before the accident, the night that changed everything around so drastically.

She lifted her head, her sad reflection staring back at her in the mirror. Would it ever be like old times again? Would she ever be able to joke with him, throw him a taunt and prepare for a better one in return? The little moments when they spoke to each other without words, being able to tell what they were trying to say between all the silence.

Sara lowered her head, one hand plucking aimlessly at a stray thread. Would Greg ever hold her again, whisper in her ear how much he loved her? Would he ever go out of his way to make her smile, because he loved the sound of her laugh? Sara bit her lip, trying her hardest to not cry.

She had been positive all along, always by his side, waiting for him to wake up, waiting for him to remember. The thought had never come to her that he wouldn't. Now it was plaguing her mind so harshly she could think of nothing else. What if he never remembered? What if he was always quiet, withdrawn, and depressed? Sara wasn't sure if she could handle that.

A knock on the bathroom door caught her attention, and she raised her head, staring at the door. On the other side she could hear Greg's voice.

"Sar, are you okay in there?"

Sara swallowed, reaching up to dry a tear. He almost sounded like himself, but the same distant tone stuck in his voice. The use of her nickname didn't surprise her; he had been calling her that for some time now. It gave her some comfort, to hear him call her by that.

"Yeah," she voiced quietly, after Greg called out to her a second time. "I'll be right out," she promised, already moving to get her clothes. For now, she had to banish such thoughts from her mind. It wasn't helping anything, and she needed to focus, needed to be strong. She couldn't break down, not now. There would plenty of time for that later.

* * *

Sara pinched the bridge of her nose as she moved through the lab. Greg was not too far behind her, moving at a slower pace as he glanced around. She had spent the better part of an hour showing Greg around, giving him brief a brief summary of everything. She would spend more time with him, work with him through everything. Grissom was nagging on her though; they were already short handed, and had called in swing shift as well.

She came to a pause, spotting Warrick in the layout room. She waited until Greg caught up with her before going inside. Warrick greeted them with a smile, dropping the folder on the table as they came in.

"Hey Greg," he nodded in greeting. "How're you holding up?"

Greg shrugged, his hands hanging loosely by his side. "Okay I guess," he stated quietly.

"You remember Warrick, he came to the hospital a couple of times," Sara prodded him, watching his expression.

Greg's brow furrowed, but he nodded after a moment. "I think so," he muttered lightly. "You asked me some questions…"

Warrick nodded, "About the accident, yes. Honestly I didn't expect to see you back so soon."

"Grissom called me in," Sara told him, "Greg wanted to come along. I have to get to work on the serial case though, is it okay if he hangs with you?"

Warrick laughed warmly, spreading his hands out to his side. "Hang all you want. It gets lonely working by myself."

Sara nodded her thanks, turning back to Greg. "If you ever need me, just ask someone. I'll be in and out, but I'll drop whatever I'm doing, okay?"

Greg nodded slowly, looking up as Warrick interrupted. "It's okay Sara, Greg's a big boy; he can take care of himself."

Greg held back a small laugh at the look Sara gave him, rounding on the other man. "I know that," she rolled her eyes. "Greg knows what I'm talking about, don't you?"

She turned back to him, waiting for an answer. Greg only shrugged moving past her. "You should get to work," he told her quietly. "That guy's called you seven times now."

"Grissom," Sara sighed, shaking her head. "The man knows no patience." She pulled out her pager, already heading out the door. Warrick nodded towards a chair, flipping the file folder open.

"Grab a seat; you'll be here for a while."

Greg moved closer to the table, pulling out the chair, his eyes focused on the documents Warrick held in his hands.

"Okay, let's go over what we have," Warrick started, laying a picture down. It was of a young girl, her face bruised above her eye, scratches running the length of her face. Her short brown hair tangled under her. Greg's eyes narrowed, wondering if he should be disturbed, or keep the same calm demeanor that Warrick next to him held.

"Fifteen year old girl, Heather Lancey. Last seen with her father Friday night. She was found Saturday morning about a mile from her home, at the bottom of a hill, COD was a single stab wound located near the heart."

"COD?" Greg questioned, looking a new photo of the wound.

"Cause of Death," Warrick explained. The terminology was used so commonly he hadn't stopped to think that it would confuse the young man. "If you get lost on something, don't hesitate to ask," he reminded him before continuing.

"Time of death was placed around an hour after leaving with her father, about 11 PM. So far, our only lead, which was the father, has been disregarded. He had an alibi, was pulled over for speeding; that was at 10:43 about seven miles away."

Greg let out a frown, looking up at him. "So what happened?"

"That's where we come in," Warrick nodded towards him. "You want to give it a try?"

Greg's eyebrow's furrowed, a questioning look passing his face. "Give what a try?"

"What do you think happened?"

Greg shook his head slowly, focusing on the picture once more. It was of her father, or what he assumed was her father. The older man's features had similarities with that of the teen. "I don't know this person; I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"Just give it a try," Warrick urged him. "There is no wrong answer to this Greg. We place ourselves in their situation, and figure out what we would do, where we would go. We look at the evidence; see if it matches our story, fill in the missing blanks…it's like one big jigsaw puzzle. Put together the outside pieces first, then start filling in the middle."

Greg nodded, leaning back in the chair, the picture raised to his eyes. "Okay…so I'm fifteen, it's the weekend, and I'm leaving with my dad…"

He grew silent, one hand resting on his chin, the many thoughts running through his mind. "Are her parents divorced?" Greg wondered lightly.

Warrick frowned, shuffling through the loose papers. "I'm not sure; her mom is coming in for questioning though. Both parents have the same last name. Still, it's possible. Why, what's on your mind?"

Greg shrugged, putting the picture back down. "It's probably nothing," he stated quietly.

"Tell me anyways," Warrick prompted.

Folding his arms across his chest, Greg let out a sigh. "Well, while I was in the hospital, in one of the magazines, I read an article that discussed the state's laws of visitation rights after divorce and everything…"

Warrick nodded, waiting for him to continue. He did so after a deep breath. "Well, if her parents were divorced, and she lived with her mother, she would more in likely have to visit her father every other weekend."

"Which would explain why her father was picking her up," Warrick stated, jotting several notes down on a stay paper.

"I was thinking, fifteen years old, she probably wants to be with her friends during the weekend, and if she doesn't really like her dad…"

"Her dad does have a record," Warrick interrupted.

"Well…maybe she said something about not wanting to see him, made him mad…maybe he hit her?"

"Which is why she has a bruise," Warrick confirmed. "What would you have done?"

"I'd probably run away," Greg admitted, the scenario running through his mind. "Maybe he followed her, hurt her somehow, the got out of there when he realized what had happened. Maybe it took her a while to die?"

"Reports say that she did have some time to move around, but only about five minutes at the most. That wouldn't have been enough time for him to get that far along the road."

Greg let out a small sigh, leaning back against the table. "I don't know then."

"Don't let it get to you," Warrick reminded him, pulling out his pager as it went off. "You have a good start. Our suspect just arrived; we'll go in and ask her a few questions. See if she's still married or not. Go ahead and come in with me, just hang back and listen. You're still new at these things, and I don't want to give Ecklie any reason to pull you down further."

"Sara warned me about him," Greg mentioned lightly, surprised when Warrick laughed.

"It's a good thing she did," he nodded, making his way out the door. Greg wasn't too far behind.

**TBC**

* * *

**Unlikely-to-bear-it**

Lol, Ecklie is an Ecklie because we all need someone to be the bad guy, right?

**new**** creation **

Thank you for all your kind comments! I'm always happy to welcome new reviewers and readers to my story. Hope to see you reviewing in the future!

**Austin B**

It is an addiction. Sadly I already have two more stories planned for this series. At the rate I'm going though I'll have the sequels finished before this one. This is just so much harder to write, and keep in character and style.

Yay, I'm glad that I've have created another Sandle. You should take a look at the csi talkfiles, there's a thread for Greg and Sara over there. If you want the site go ahead and send me a mail :D

And all the Sara/Greg moments are really sweet…I'm being deprived writing this fic, forcing myself to make Greg pull away from Sara. It's hard…lol

**Jenny-**

Forget the numbers, lol. And how dare you call your stuff garbage! I love reading it! And I know how writer's block goes, as I'm sure you know. And I know, I would have had this up sooner…but you know :D

**CatherineLouise**

Only a few smiles this chapter, but there will be more next chapter. I know I said this chapter, but this chapter turned out to be so much longer than planned. But hopefully next chapter, right?

**Sugar Pill**

I tried to do a little inside Greg's head, but you're right. I have no idea what it's like to have amnesia, hopefully I wont ever have to either.

**Tripp3235-**

Yes, I do miss reading your thoughts. They're so…thoughtful. Lol. And there will be some Greg/Sara interaction, just later on in the story. Poor Greggo is still trying to find himself.

**jewelbaby**

Indeed it is hard, I can't imagine it, but I've had family that's dealt with taking care of someone like that. It's very hard. Sometimes all you need is a friend :D

**Lizzy Sidle**

It is a good thing it jammed, huh? As for shooting Ecklie…who else would I use to be a jerk? He may be annoying, but he's very useful.

**rachel**

Thanks for your comments! Hope this is soon enough for you!


	16. Open Spaces

**Okay, major thanks to Jenny for helping me with this chapter. You know how much trouble I had with this. Honestly though, you seriously better appreciate this, after all the research on cockroaches I had to do, I'm going to have nightmares for a month. **

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Open Spaces**

The room wasn't very large; a single metal table, with a few chairs surrounding it. A mirror ran the length of the back wall. Greg leaned against the opposite wall, allowing Warrick to take a seat in front of the older woman.

Her gray hair sprouted in various directions, thinning on top, the sides were thicker. She rubbed her tired blue eyes, her face pale, somewhat withdrawn. Even though there was no smoking allowed in the room, the air was heavy with the stench.

Their suspect, Rachael Lancey, leaned forward, clearing her throat, her long plastic nails drumming on the surface. "Is it possible to get this over with soon?" she wondered dimly. "I have plans."

"This won't take very long," Warrick reassured her, "Are you sure you don't want a lawyer present?"

She scoffed lightly, shaking her head. "Waste my money on one of those good for nothing vermin? I'd rather rot in jail. Besides, I didn't do anything illegal."

Warrick nodded, pulling the teenager's profile from his file. "You know who this is?"

The woman scowled, turning her head away. "Of course I know who that is. Why do you ask such stupid questions? That's my daughter."

Warrick nodded, his arms crossed on the table in front of him. "Do you know how she may have died?"

Rachael shrugged lightly, her attention drawn to her nails. She was picking intently at one of them. "You're the investigator, you tell me."

"Are you divorced?" Warrick asked suddenly, switching topics.

"I don't see how it's any of your business, but yes." Her voice was heavy, scratchy even. Inwardly it irritated Greg, but he remained silent, doing his best to focus on what was at hand.

"Did your daughter like her father?"

She let out a sigh, letting both hands lay flat on the table. "How should I know? She was a teenager for heaven sakes. One week she would be looking forward to see him, the other she would rant about how much she wanted him to die. I paid little attention. Children are awful blemishes, don't you agree Mr. Brown?"

Greg watched Warrick closely; the other man's face was smooth and quiet. "On the contrary," he stated firmly.

He could hear Rachael scoff, watched her shake her head. "Well, we all have our own opinions."

Warrick shifted uneasily in his chair, letting out a sigh. "How did your daughter seem the Friday night before she disappeared? Was she angry or upset? Happy maybe, depressed?"

"I wasn't even there Mr. Brown," Rachael pointed out, her attention focused back on her nails.

Warrick made a move to speak, but she interrupted him. "Where was I? Gambling, at the Rio, it was ladies night out. Big get together my friends and I have. Once a week we meet up at the Rio, have a few rounds, a few smokes, and play the nickel slots there. Never spend too much money, that's not the point. It's the time spent together that matters. Tom should have picked her up that afternoon. From there, I have no idea."

"You don't check in with your daughter?" Warrick wondered mildly, already having an idea of the possible answer.

She let out a scowl, shaking her head. "Why should I? She's not a baby anymore, thank goodness. Honestly if you ask me, it's probably better this way, she was a nuisance anyways."

"You don't miss her at all?"

The question came from Greg, both surprising and startling Warrick. He turned around, training his gaze on him, hoping to quiet him before anything broke out. Greg's expression was tight, disturbed even. He hadn't stopped to think how the interview would have affected him. It would be something he had to talk to Greg about later, but at the moment, the last thing that was needed was a fight; it wouldn't look good on either of their parts.

Rachael laughed bitterly, catching his attention again. "Why would I?"

"She's your daughter," Greg pointed out quietly. His arms were still folded across his chest as he leaned against the wall. She didn't answer right away, leaving time for Warrick to interject.

"Thank you for your time Miss Lancey, you can go now."

The older woman nodded, standing up and collecting her belongings. She was gone within the next moment, leaving the two men alone.

"Well," Warrick muttered quietly, closing the folder in front of him. "We didn't learn much." He turned to look up at Greg, who hadn't moved at all since he came in. "You going to be okay?"

Greg nodded slowly, letting out a sigh. "Yeah…I'll be fine."

Warrick nodded at the statement. He wasn't thoroughly convinced with his answer, but he wasn't going to press the matter, not now anyways. Standing, Warrick pushed his chair in, motioning for Greg to follow, who did so with little complaint.

He came to a stop in the hallway, turning round to face him. "I have some paperwork to do, it's not going to take me very long, but you can take a break until I finish. You can meet me here in about twenty minutes, just don't wander too far, it's easy to get lost in here."

Greg nodded again, still remaining silent. Warrick hung around an extra second only to confirm that he was going to be okay before leaving. Greg watched him walk down the hallway and turn the corner before starting down himself.

The lab, as everyone seemed to call it, didn't seem the least bit familiar to him. Greg took his time, walking slowly, pausing to glance in each room. Most of them were empty, and the ones that weren't the people were busy at work. Most of them never even glanced at him as he went by; a few others gave him a brief smile and even a warm welcome.

He strained his memory, doing his best to remember any of it. Unsurprisingly nothing came up. Greg sighed pitifully, continuing his slow walk around the corner. Secretly he hoped he would be able to find his way back within the next twenty minutes. Coming to one room he came to stop, taking his time as he glanced inside. He was about to continue on when the temptation became too much, and he changed his direction.

The room wasn't very big, but neither was it very small. A comfortable size Greg reasoned. A desk sat to one side, covered with papers that were running the length of the desk. Greg wondered if there was anything else besides the papers themselves, the single thought amusing him.

Off to the side stood a rack filled with specimen jars and insect collections. Greg looked over these quickly, the hundreds of tiny eyes staring at him only served to make him feel more uncomfortable. Next to him was a worn couch, an ugly yellow in color, but it looked fairly comfortable. It was small enough to fit in the office without really taking away any of the space, but would be able to support someone for a short nap. He wondered dimly if he had ever slept on it before.

Greg shuffled in further, his attention turned towards the shelves on the far wall. He slowed his pace, coming to a stop as he briefly read over the certificates that were encased in wooden frames. Slowly he reached out, running his hands over the smooth glass, smiling inwardly as he read the fine print.

_The Annual Bug Bowl is proud to present this award to Gilbert Grissom for placing third in the cockroach races held in Duluth, Georgia._

_Angela Guidroz _

_Marcus Young_

Slowly his gaze shifted towards the right, quickly scanning the next achievement. It was more settle, for which Greg was content with. He wasn't very fond of cockroaches, seeing that he had his own encounter with them only a week ago in the hospital. This one recognized his field of study, a Bachelors Degree in Biology.

Greg only paused long enough to take in the information before passing on. He came to another stop, staring at the framed image for a minute before reaching out with both hands to pick it up.

It was of him, but not just him, but several others as well. Sara was standing next to him, one hand resting on his arm, another woman standing off to his other side, her blonde hair hanging freely. He recognized Warrick, but failed to figure out the other man who was standing behind him.

"Find anything interesting?"

The sudden voice startled Greg, who turned around quickly, the picture still clutched in his arms. "I'm sorry," he stammered, doing his best to explain himself. He was silenced as the other man raised his hand.

"It's okay, as long as you not stealing my prize winning cockroaches you're fine."

Greg made a face, cringing inwardly. "That's okay, you can keep them," he muttered quietly, looking back down at the picture. "You must be Grissom, the bug man," he added."

Grissom gave him an odd look as he sat down at his desk, "The bug man?"

Greg lifted his gaze to meet that of the other man's. "It's what Sara called you."

"Really?" Grissom stated in surprise, shaking his head. "I'll have to make note of that."

Greg didn't reply, only continued to look at the picture, bringing it closer to his face.

"That was after your promotion," Grissom continued, his voice quieter than before. He didn't expect the younger man to answer, but knew that he would at least listen. "I'm not much of a picture person, no one is really, but Sara insisted. She was really proud of you."

"Why did I decide to do field work?" Greg asked suddenly. "Sara said I used to work in the DNA lab…then changed to the field work."

Grissom nodded thoughtfully. "I'm not sure why Greg. I have my thoughts, but you didn't really say. It was easy enough to see that you enjoyed it more than working in the lab."

Greg nodded, slowly returning the picture back to its original spot. "I feel so out of place here," he whispered softly. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Grissom was quiet at this statement, looking up slowly at the younger man. "You'll learn," he offered. The look Greg gave him wasn't very convincing.

"How?" Greg asked briefly.

Sighing now, Grissom took his glasses off, motion back towards the shelf. "Take a good look at that picture. You have an entire family that's willing to support you. All of us are here for you, whenever you need some guidance."

Greg turned back to the photograph, taking in the small group carefully. Everyone was in smiles, relaxed, hanging slightly on each other. He turned back towards Grissom, his face passive. "I don't know any of them."

"Yes you do," Grissom told him sternly. "You just don't remember. Take some time, talk with everyone. It'll come, it will."

Greg shuffled uncomfortable, looking down. "Do you know where Sara is?"

He didn't see Grissom nod as the older man began to speak. "She's working in the garage. If you follow the hallway out front here to the end, and take a left and head straight, you'll walk right by it."

Greg muttered his thanks, taking one last glance at the photo before heading out of the office. Grissom watched him go with a sigh, wondering how much longer he would be able to keep up the charade. It didn't seem to matter how hard any of them tried, no one was connecting to him. Grissom reminded himself to be patient, reminded himself that maybe things would start to piece back together now that Greg was returning to work. He could only hope that he was right.

**TBC**

* * *

**Mellaithwen**

Good to see you mellonnin, welcome back to the world of CSI. :D Glad to see you still around. Hope to see you still reading, and loved your update!

**Unlikely-to-bear-it**

I like Ecklie the best because I don't have to get rid of him. LOL, he's always there when you need him, and then you shove him aside until later :D

**frickangel**

Thanks for the comments! It's not very easy writing in this style, I've know I've said this before, but writing Greg now has been harder than ever. I liked the cologne part as well

**LuvinNickyStokes**

Thanks! It's good to see your reviews again, lol.

**Sugar Pill**

Sara's frustrations are half my own. Greg's frustrating me right now. Lol. You need to update again! I want to know what happens!

**Jenny-**

Thanks so much for all your help. This chappie would not be out tonight if it weren't for you. I was about to give up. Many, many thanks.

And of course, I love seeing your reviews!

**CatherineLouise**

Okay…more smiles, next chapter. I had so many problems with this chapter it's not even funny. LOL. But there should be more in the future…hopefully.

**Lizzy Sidle**

No killing Ecklie…still need him :D

Lol, no remembering quite yet…how frustrating

**And thanks to all my other reviewers. Please, keep reviewing, they are my inspiration! **


	17. Show Me

**Sorry for the long wait between updates. I've been so busy and things are only getting busier. Please bear with me as I try to keep up with everything. R2R will be next chapter, but I love reading all your comments, so don't forget to review!**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Show Me **

"I thought you were working in the garage."

Sara lifted her head, meeting his gaze briefly before giving him a small smile. Shifting in her chair, she let out a sigh, her attention going back down to the paperwork that was strewn over the table. Greg moved in slowly, taking a seat down from across her.

"Change of plans," she told him quietly. "Nick was called away on another scene, leaving me with," she let out a sigh, picking up the two inch stack, "paperwork, and paperwork… and oh, I almost forgot, paperwork."

Greg nodded slowly, reaching over to pick up a handful. As he did so, Sara continued, slouching in her chair, her feet resting on the seat of another. "So while Nick has all the fun, he has the nerve to call me up and inform me he hasn't done any of the paperwork on this case for the last week now. I swear, I could strangle him with my bare hands."

Greg lifted his gaze from the papers, watching her. "You would actually kill him?" he asked quietly.

Sara met his concerned gaze, shaking her head quickly. "No, no…it's just an expression. It means I'm angry with him. People do that, say one thing, but mean another."

"Like lying?" Greg wondered, laying the papers back down on the table.

Sara came to a stop, putting her pen down. "No," she said softly. "Lying is when you're trying to hide something. This is just a way to express your feelings, without saying it directly…"

She came to a stop once she realized Greg was no longer following her. She forced a smile, trying to reassure herself as much as him. "It's not the same thing, don't worry."

Greg nodded after a moment, and a breath of silence passed between them. She was used to it now, Greg would have his bouts of questions, while other times he would talk at the same rate as an excited child, where others he was just timid, withdrawn. It had been an unsettling difference in him, but one she could not control, no matter how much she wished she did.

"So what are you up to then?" she asked, pushing one stack to the side. At this rate it would take her all night to finish, and that would be pure luck if she did so.

Greg shrugged, his fingers playing with the string on his jacket. Sara wasn't sure how he was able to wear one at a time like this. It was warm inside, even at night. The air conditioning unit had broken weeks ago, but the lab hadn't called anyone in to fix it. Ecklie claimed that they could fix it easily enough, and save money. Still, no one had even looked at the thing since then.

"Just wanted to see you," he muttered quietly. "The other guy's doing some stuff; I have to meet him in a little bit…"

"Warrick?" Sara wondered smiling as Greg nodded.

"We're going to head out to a scene…well, the scene, I guess."

"Sounds like fun," Sara told him, "more fun than this anyways."

"You could come with us," Greg mentioned suddenly. He sat up straighter in his chair, leaning against the table.

Sara laughed softly, shaking her head. "I have to finish this, but thanks for the invite."

Greg nodded slowly, but it was clear he was disappointed, his expression dimmed as he looked at her. An awkward silence stretched between them, Sara doing her best to her attention on the work in front of her. It was a hard task; Greg had always managed to get the upper hand of her attention, even when he wasn't trying.

Sara had always admired that in him, and she was thankful that it was one thing that hadn't changed. A slight smile crossed her face, as she raised her eyes above the papers in her hand to catch a second glimpse of him. She was surprised to find the chair empty, watching as Greg just turned the corner, Warrick by side. Biting her lip she focused her attention once again at the task at hand.

Greg hadn't even said so much as a goodbye…but she supposed she couldn't feel too bad. After all Greg had gone looking for her, and had even wanted her to join them. The offer was appealing, in more ways than one. Firstly she hated paperwork, and on top of that there was a pile of garbage waiting for her as soon as Nick got back.

Speaking of Nick, where was he exactly? The clock was hanging over the doorway, and it took her a moment to focus on the time. Nick should have already been here. True, you could never really tell how long a scene would take to process, but Nick would have called by now if it was going to be late…wouldn't he?

Sara promptly dropped the papers into a pile, pushing them off to the side. Normally she would take care to put them away, but at the moment she wanted a few minutes to stretch her legs. Hunger was evident, considering she hadn't really eaten anything. Honestly it wasn't like her.

Sure, she never ate a balanced diet. She never had the time. Work took up most of her energy, and the time she did have to herself she spent it resting, or hanging out with Greg. Now, recently, she seemed too tired to do anything. Sleep only came when her exhaustion level reached its limit, and even then she never really slept. Other times she found herself alone, sitting on the couch that had very much become her bed while Greg was in the hospital, crying as the emotions overtook her.

She knew what Greg had told her was true. She needed help; the only problem was that she was too afraid. Who was there to ask, who was there to go to? Besides, she couldn't be breaking down now, not when Greg needed her support so badly.

Sara glanced up as her name was called, sighing in relief as she saw Nick bounding up the hallway. The sooner they got to work, the sooner she could get Greg home. She was anxious about leaving him for so long.

Her expressions changed though as Nick finally reached her, his breath catching slightly as he began to talk. "We got him Sar," he told her, taking a moment to draw in another long draught of air. "We got him."

Sara frowned, studying him for a moment. "Got who?" she wondered.

Nick held up his hand for a moment, swallowing before he continued. "The call we got earlier, it was for a meth lab. We checked it out, searched the place top to bottom. Complete meth lab, I mean this guy really had the works."

Sara nodded slowly. "I'm assuming that this is going somewhere," she stated quietly.

Nick nodded, already continuing to explain. "While I was searching the back closet, which was a complete mess by the way, I came across some evidence bags. I thought they were ones I already bagged, and I was just going to put them aside, but then I noticed the initials on the seal. They were Greg's."

Sara frowned, shifting uncomfortably. "That's not funny Nick. Greg hasn't done any field work for months. Just because the initials on the bag match Greg's doesn't mean they're his. Did you happen to look at the date?"

"Same date as the accident," Nick whispered lightly. When she didn't respond he continued. "The bags were never found that night Sara. We did a thorough search, and came up with nothing. I pulled out more evidence bags that your initials on them, with the same date. His prints were all over them, he has a record. Brass has him in interrogation right now."

Sara held her breath, staring at the ground first, then back up at him, he voice barely audible as she whispered. "Show me."

**TBC**


	18. Favors

**Yay****! I updated! A miracle, I know. Okay, so I started typing this late Friday night, and it's now Saturday morning, and I'm nearly asleep at the keyboard. So if spelling and grammar are really bad, then I'm sorry, I did the best I could. R2R next chapter hopefully, I'm too tired to do them this chapter (lame excuse, I know).**

**Thanks to all those who have reviewed, and who are still sticking in here with me after it's been nearly an eternity. **

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Favors**

The cool night of the air was a striking difference compared to atmosphere inside the lab. He felt calmer out here, less claustrophobic. The tingling sense, as best as he could describe it, began to grow as he tried to think, tried to stretch his mind, tried to remember. Was he claustrophobic; was a simple phobia something he truly afraid of?

Greg drew in a deep breath as he came to a stop, glancing down the empty street before them. At this hour most houses were dark, lit by only a single outside light, some censored, trigged as the wind blew straggling leaves by. The streetlights were their only other source of light, giving the area an eerie, ghostlike feel. He lifted his gaze to meet Warrick's as the man passed by. Waiting a few steps, he quickly moved to catch up with the other, flashlight in one hand as they crossed the street.

"I thought you said she was found in a park," Greg questioned, his stride slowing as matched Warrick's pace.

Warrick nodded as he came to stop, setting his case on the ground. His camera flashed in the darkness as he snapped several pictures of the surrounding area. "Just across the street there," he pointed, using the same hand that held the device, "near the wooded area. Her father would have most likely have driven this route, coming from the house."

"I searched the area where the body was found, but no further. If they did have an argument in the car like you suggested earlier, he could have slammed on the brakes, maybe hard enough to find some tire treads."

Greg nodded quietly, taking in the information. From that point he followed Warrick, watching closely, trying to keep himself open to the change. When he was with Sara she was constantly talking, constantly keeping him distracted. There was something about her, something he couldn't place, not quite yet.

She was uncomfortable, in the least, when she was around him. He knew that it was because of him, something he was doing, or wasn't doing, that caused this. Greg had his own suspicions, but he hadn't been able to muster up the courage to ask her if they had been intimate before the accident. After all, for all he knew Sara was just being nice to him because she was in the accident as well.

He had asked her about the accident, more than once. She never gave him anything more than vague answers, no matter how much he pried. The last time she had quietly told him she wasn't ready to talk about it. Greg wasn't sure why it mattered to him so much, the doctors had already explained to him that he most likely would never remember that day. It was just that maybe if he could have the last piece, then maybe he could remember.

He spent a lot of his time thinking now, trying to remember something, anything in the least. And all he got for his efforts was a resounding nothing. Even with Sara telling him about his past, trying to piece it back together for him, nothing seemed to work. Everything seemed to be moving at warp speed, while he remained still, trapped in his own world that was as empty as his past.

"Found something over here."

Warrick's voice pulled him from his trance, one that Greg was unaware that he had fallen into. He glanced up, over to where Warrick was kneeling, his camera flashing as it went off. Greg hurried to join him, watching over his shoulder as Warrick pointed out the tire treads.

"They look like a match," Greg commented quietly, "To the father's tires."

Warrick nodded in agreement, but voiced his thoughts as well. "We can't be certain until we compare them. You want to give a try in lifting them?"

Greg shook his head quickly, not yet ready to go that far. Warrick laughed softly, earning a perplexed look from the younger man. "It's easy," his tone lightening as he opened his case, "here, I'll show you."

* * *

He wasn't tall, but not exactly short either. A bit on the chubby side, but you really couldn't say that he was overweight. His brown hair was thin, matted and wet, probably from perspiration. After all, it could get warm in the interrogation rooms.

Nick stood next to her, as they both watched through the window. It was as close as Nick would let her. If it hadn't been for him, Sara wasn't sure if the suspect would still be alive. She could feel her blood boiling, both in shock and disgrace.

"I've seen him before," she managed to mutter, her voice thick, choked even.

Nick turned towards her; she could feel him watching from the corner of her eye. "You've seen him before?" he repeated her question, somewhat surprised.

"The night of the accident," Sara swallowed, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. She hadn't broken down in front of anyone, not since that night, she wouldn't start now. "He nearly ran me over," she whispered the last part, painful memories flooding back, what she had said, of their fight.

"You uh, want to run that by me again?" Nick asked, still watching her.

"When we got the crime scene, he pulled up right after us, as I was getting out. He said he didn't see me, now I'm having a tough time believing him."

"And you didn't report this?"

"We got distracted Nicky," Sara exclaimed, her voice rising. She took a moment to calm herself before continuing. "It wasn't as important after the crash. I really didn't think about it afterwards."

It wasn't an exact lie. Sure, she had thought about it plenty of times, not so much of the discourteous driver as she did what had happened afterwards. Even after all this time she couldn't bring herself to let it go. It was something so trivial after all that had happened; there was no use in hanging onto something like that, was there?

The silence between them was broken as Nick shifted, starting to say something but stopped as Brass came into the room. The man himself was in his mid thirties, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Brass sat down calmly, offering a cup of water to him. The man shook his head, his hands clasped tightly.

"You seem like a fairly decent person, Mr. Redding" Brass stated quietly. "Business man, work for the airlines, you make a pretty good paycheck. Tell me, why would someone like you be spending their free time operating a small time meth lab? I mean, your company is strict on the drug and alcohol bit, random checks and everything. They find out your secret, you're gone."

"It wasn't mine," Redding stated quickly. "It was for a friend. I told him I didn't want any part in it, but I owed him a favor, I didn't have a choice."

"Really?" Brass gave him a small smile, one that seemed a little smug. "Where is he at?"

"Out of town," Redding whispered, clearing his throat. "He pulled me out of financial debt years ago. A few months back he shows up on my doorstep, drops the stuff off leaving instructions. If I don't go along with it, I loose everything. My house, my job, everything I got from him, he can take it away just as easy."

"How convenient," Brass remarked lightly. "You know, whenever I do a favor for a friend, I make sure it's legal first. But this isn't the only reason you're here. We recovered something from your place that seems a little; I don't know how you would put it. Out of place, maybe?"

Brass lifted the small tub off the floor, placing it on the table before taking the lid off. Inside were the evidence bags, having yet to make it to their proper places. The case had been closed long ago due to insufficient evidence. At the moment they were pulling the old files, going over the little they did have.

"I can explain," Redding said quickly, holding his hands out to his side. It was my sister, she used to work at this store for the longest time, and one day, for no reason her boss goes berserk and fires her, for no reason. Then she makes up this lame story about him raping her or something to get back at him. I told her 'Tina, you can't do this, you just can't.' and she freaked on me. Said I had to call the cops back, tell them that it never happened. But reporting a false crime, that's like jail time, I can't go to jail, I have a job, a life, you know?"

"So instead you follow the CSI's out to the scene of the crime, and you must have waited for them to go inside…"

"I knew that it was too late to really stop them. I knew I had to get whatever they took. They would know nothing happened, and Tina and I would both go to jail…" the man was nearly shaking now.

"I…I didn't expect them to go off the road. I figured that when they noticed the brakes weren't working, they would stop, walk back to the store to call for help, and I would get the stuff then. It wasn't part of the plan."

Sara bit her lip, trying to keep from crying as she watched this man, the one person responsible for everything Greg had gone through, and still was. It was ironic, how something so little, could change so much.

"How could they have stopped without any brakes?"

Redding shrugged, looking down at the table. "I guess I didn't think that far ahead."

"I guess not," Brass echoed after him. "You have such a big heart," he continued, "doing all these favors for others, no matter the risks. You know, your favors may have saved your home, your family, job even. You also avoided jail time, for a little while, that is. But you know, your favor almost cost the lives of the both of them."

"They lived then?" the man breathed heavily then, seemingly relieved. Dropping his head into his hands on the table he continued after a moment. "I thought for sure…I called 911, just hoping you know…I thought they were both dead."

"If you were so concerned, then why did you leave?"

"I was scared," he admitted quietly. "I don't think I have ever been that scared before."

"Yes, they both lived, but at a cost," Brass started again after a minute, his voice quietly, doing his best to keep his anger in check. "But one of them ended up with amnesia." Brass paused as the suspect's eyes flicked up to meet his briefly. "He can't remember anything, and I'm not just referring to the accident. He'll never be the same, that's what your favor cost him. I hope you're proud."

That was it; this was all she could take. It was all she could handle; the tears were already flowing as she left the room in a hurry. She walked quickly down the hallway, keeping her head down, ignoring the looks from the others. She came to a stop in the locker room, only to catch her breath.

"Sara," Nick's voice was strained, full of worry. She took in a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She couldn't handle this; she couldn't lose it like this. Not here, not now. For so long she had been strong, only allowing herself to cry in the comfort of her own solitude, but it didn't matter. No force would be able to stop her now.

Nick grabbed her gently, refusing to let her go even as she pulled away. "Sara, what's wrong?" It worried him greatly, all she had ever wanted since the accident was to find the one responsible for it, but now that they had found him, it only seemed to make things worse.

"It's not over," Sara told him fiercely, muttering out the broken words in between sobs. "I won't give up, I won't."

"What are you talking about?" Nick tried to hush her gently as she pulled free of his grasp.

"Greg," Sara stammered, "he's going to remember, he will…" she grew silent, but only for a moment before a whole new wave of emotions crashed upon her. She had never felt this broken before, and was unable to control herself; it was a feeling that scared her. "Brass is right," she continued, starting to pace back and forth. "Greg will never be the same, he won't ever…"

Nick grabbed her again, forcing her to remain still. This time Sara didn't fight him, instead leaning up against him, seeking the warmth and comfort she had longed for ever since that night. Nick wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she continued to cry.

"You're getting a little ahead of yourself," he whispered in her ear. "Greg's going to be just fine, you'll see."

"When?" Sara pulled back, breaking the hold he had on her, if only just a little. "I can't wait forever Nick." She looked away then, her gaze drifting to the ground. "I want so much to talk to him, to talk with him. I want to hear his stupid jokes; I want to hear his crazy music, and so much to smell his Blue Hawaiian Coffee when I walk into the lab. I want to tell him that I'm sorry for what I said, and for him to know what I'm apologizing for. But I can't…It hurts Nicky, it hurts so much."

Finding the right words was hard, so instead he just pulled her into another strong embrace. What could he say? That he knew how she was feeling? Sure, he missed the old Greg, but he knew what the pair used to have had been much deeper than anyone had realized. How could you fix something that was broken when all the pieces weren't there?

**TBC**


	19. Stories of the Past

**Finally have the smiles some have been asking for. Better late than never, right? And yes, although they have the guy responsible for all this pain an agony Greg is going through (which by no means is me) the story still has a ways to go. **

**This chapter goes out to all my wonderful reviewers who have stuck with me through endless periods of no updates. Although I regret to say that I'm not sure when I can update again. Tonight's my last night of freedom for a while, so without further ado, enjoy!**

**PS: reviews make me really happy :)**

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: Stories of the Past**

She had spent the rest of the time in solitude. Nick hadn't really agreed with her on this point, but she needed it. Needed the time to sort her thoughts out, needed the time to regain control of her emotions. She was stretched much to thin, and she was beginning to tire of it.

It had helped, so much in fact she had forgotten to watch the time. Not only had she stayed the entire night, she had also worked past her own shift. Her thoughts changed immediately as she realized she hadn't heard from Greg the entire night.

Packing up quickly Sara didn't bother writing down her overtime, moving through the hallways. She slowed her pace as she came around the corner, hearing the laughter was coming from the break room. Curious now, she changed her direction, her head tilted to one side as she lingered in the doorway.

Warrick was laughing lightly as he brought a styrofoam cup up to his lips, taking a small sip. Nick was laughing harder than he was, but what caught her attention was Greg's expression. He was leaning back in the chair between the pair, his face cracked in a grin as the others continued to talk. It was the first time he had smiled since the accident, and she couldn't help but smile herself as she came the rest of the way into the room.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly, wanting desperately to know what had put them in such a good mood, but at the same was afraid of breaking the atmosphere that hung in the room.

"Being humiliated at my own expense I guess," Greg perked up quickly, meeting her gaze briefly before turning away.

"We're retelling some of the finer points of his history," Nick started once regaining some of his composure. "Warrick, you remember the time Greg went streaking through the lab?"

It was apparent he had, because he started laughing, nodding his head, but it left Sara bewildered. "No, I've never heard that one…"

Greg hadn't said anything, but an amusing expression had crossed his face, one and supporting his head as Nick cleared his throat. "When you went out in the field on that decomp, who was it with…"

"Catherine I think," Warrick interjected, taking another sip of his drink, "Wasn't me, that's for sure."

Nick waved it off, trying to keep himself composed as he continued on with the story. "The lab was shorthanded, at any rate, and since you were training to get out in the field, you volunteered to go. That was before you learned it was a decomp; let's just say you became one with the evidence."

"That's right," Warrick laughed softly, "I remember now, I had to help Catherine log everything in. You hopped in the showers as soon as we got back, kept saying you'd have nightmares for a month."

"How does this turn out to be Greg streaking through the lab?" Sara interrupted the two, sitting down at across from Nick.

The Texan grinned at her, scratching the side of his head. "Warrick stole his clothes."

"Only because you paid me," Warrick shot back, laughing as he brought the cup up to his lips again.

"His clothes yes," Nick laughed back, "I said nothing about taking his towel."

"No, that was a bonus feature," Warrick admitted, grinning as he turned to Greg. The former lab tech just shook his head, a smile playing across his face.

"The next thing we know is this skinny white kid's running through the halls cursing everyone out, using an old biology book he got out his locker to shield himself."

Sara couldn't help but laugh lightly, mostly at the two men who were laughing uncontrollably now, and her eyes locked with Greg's. He was laughing as well, shaking his head. A tinge of red was in his cheeks, but she was certain he would be far more embarrassed if he actually remembered the event.

"Of course," Warrick continued once he was able to, "We all were written up for it. Ecklie was not impressed to say the least."

"Wasn't that when he gave us the 'You are not boys anymore" speech?" Nick wondered out loud, leaning back in his chair.

"You mean the same one Catherine gives me every week?"

"Wait, wait," Sara leaned forward, "When did all of this happen? Where was I?"

"Some conference with Grissom," Warrick nodded towards her. You actually miss a lot when Grissom's gone."

"Party time," Nick agreed nodding. He checked his watch, letting out a small sigh. "It's been fun, but I've got to split. Ecklie wants me back here in just a few hours, I need my rest."

"We should be going too," Sara agreed, looking back up towards Greg once again. "How're you feeling?"

"Tired," Greg admitted lightly, "and hungry."

"We'll stop somewhere on the way home," she reassured him, watching as Nick left the room, giving a final wave as he left.

"You coming back in tomorrow night?" Warrick asked the pair, to which Sara shrugged.

"It's up to Greg really; the doctor doesn't want him straining himself."

"I'd like to," Greg spoke up, looking from one to the other, "After I get some sleep that is."

Sara gave him a small smile, before pushing back from the table. Greg followed suit not to long after, catching up to her in the doorway. Warrick watched the pair leave before getting up himself, tossing his cup into the garbage before heading out for the night as well.

* * *

"So," Sara asked quietly, placing her cup of water back down on the table. "What do you think?"

"Honestly, I don't know if I want to work there or not," Greg told her, earning an odd look from his partner. He couldn't help but smile as he continued, "It sounds like they were pretty mean to me."

Sara laughed, turning away for a moment as she shook her head. "That's because they're only telling you about the times they got you. They didn't say anything about the times you got them."

"Tell me," Greg prodded her, crossing his arms on the tabletop.

"I don't know Greg," she said lightly, "I'm not the best storyteller."

"I don't care," he argued lightly, "Tell me anyways."

His look was an earnest one, the same look he always gave her when he really wanted something, the face she could never ignore. It as the face she hated as much as she loved, because he knew it worked, and used it against her when he truly out of other options. Now, right now, she loved it, seeing him tonight had been uplifting. Seeing him smile, and at the current moment, pout, it seemed as though things were normal. A normality she desperately missed.

"Well…there was that one time you spiked their drinks," she told him, doing her best to remember every detail. "Let's just say they couldn't leave the bathroom for a while," she stated, unable to come up with a better explanation. "I heard that one through Catherine; you apparently loved the whole ordeal."

Greg nodded, urging her to continue. She let out a sigh, trying to recall another time. She never held them in check for too long, writing them off as childish pranks when they did happen.

"Then there was that time you hid a dead octopus in Nick's locker. He was gone for vacation; security had to confiscate everything that was inside. The entire locker room smelled so bad…it was in there about a week before anyone did anything about it."

"Were did I get an octopus from?" Greg wondered lightly.

Sara shrugged her shoulders, laughing. "You know, we're still trying to figure that one out. Needless to say, Nick switched you hair dye not too long after that."

"Yeah…?"

"You came to work with pink hair," Sara laughed softly. That was one she did remember. "You refused to tell anyone what really happened, and then Nicky spilled the beans."

"What did I do then?"

Sara paused long enough to take another sip of water, "You paid his girlfriend to shave his eyebrows off."

Greg laughed, shaking his head. "So in other words I was just as bad as they were."

Sara nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, you three really are the highlight of the lab. You're what make this job fun, in a sense."

"Or used to be," Greg mentioned quietly, clearing his throat as he looked away.

Sara opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself just as quickly. It was quiet for a while, something that she didn't deal with too well. She reached out, grasping her water, but instead of picking it up, she just held it, letting out a sigh. It was now, or never.

"Greg," she said quietly, raising her voice some so that he could hear. He looked up, meeting her gaze, unknowingly making it that much harder for her. "They uh…we've found out what happened…with the accident."

Greg was quiet, only looking away as she continued. "The guy…he admitted to cutting the brake lines…and everything. He's behind bars now…but somehow it's not as satisfying as I thought it would be."

"Because I don't remember," Greg finished quietly.

"This isn't your fault," Sara reminded him sternly, sitting up. She leaned in closer to him, waiting until he met her gaze once again.

"You know that, don't you?"

Greg let out a small shrug, looking down at his hands that were in his lap. "Ever since I've been awake, it's been about what I've done wrong…or what I haven't been doing. I'm trying; you have to believe me when I say that…I really am trying."

"We know that Greg," Sara interjected quickly. "No one blames you. Don't even think of blaming this on yourself. Yes, things are different, but I have to learn to accept them. If I could just snap my fingers and make everything how it was before, than I would, but I just can't."

Greg nodded solemnly, but didn't say anything further. His look must have not been convincing enough, because she let out a sigh, dropping her head into her hands. "I'm sorry," Greg apologized softly, not realizing how much he had upset her.

"It's not your fault," Sara told him quietly, "I owe you a lot of explanations, and I guess I'll start tonight…"

"If you don't want too…" Greg started, only to be cut off as she shook her head.

"I need to…"

**TBC**


	20. Moving Forward

**Another chapter! Once again, I don't know when I'll be able to update, work's really busy, and this weekend is packed, but I'll do my best. Thanks and such at the bottom.**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: Moving Forward**

She hadn't really slept…but then again, when did she anymore? They had talked the rest of the day…actually she had talked, Greg had listened. She had told him everything, the convenience store…the seminar…the accident…falling in love. It was something she should have done long ago, something she hadn't been able to do before. She had talked, and cried, cursing herself inside for her weakness.

She had continued on, telling him of the nightmares that plagued her dreams, and the sleepless nights she had spent next to his hospital bed, waiting for him to wake up. Greg had listened quietly, unsure of what to do; unknowing of how to give comfort, or if he should take comfort in her words. She had explained everything, but nothing had really changed.

The call had come in just four hours after they had left. She hadn't wanted to go back in, but at the same time, she didn't want to stay home. Greg must have been thinking along the same lines, because he was dressed and ready to go, waiting for when she got out of the shower. She tried to reason with him, reminding him the doctor wanted him to get his rest. At the current moment, he had only a few hours of sleep within the last day.

_"That's all I've been doing for these last few months, resting," he had pointed out. _

In the end, he won the argument, mostly because she was too tired to disagree. Greg had hooked back up with Warrick while she went her separate way. Nick had already left for the night, going home for the first time that week. Lately he had been catching naps in Grissom's office, or when it was quiet enough, in the break room.

Easing herself into the chair, Sara pulled out a new pile of forms, moving to fill out the top one. It was all too familiar, the vial of blood, the fingerprints. If the killer hadn't changed preferences, they would be receiving fingers, hair follicles…

She stopped to take a breath. It was a game, that was all. The victims were just pawns, the killer moving them in one direction. Now they only had forty-eight hours before their latest victim turned up dead. The killer dumped their bodies always in a location where they would be found, within the same area, always on the same day of the week. The night before garbage collection. Everyone running out to drop off last minute trash…someone was bound to find the body.

She glanced up as someone knocked on the open door, smiling as Greg came in slowly. Clearing a spot she nodded towards the empty chair, which he took after a moment's hesitation.

"You doing okay?" she wondered lightly, paying only partial concentration to what she was doing.

Greg nodded, seemingly confident. It was clear he was tired; she could read it not only in his eyes, but in his voice when he spoke. "Warrick's running some prints through the computer, he thinks we're close."

"Did the tire treads come back as a match?" she wondered lightly, taking the moment to engage in conversation. Since the accident Greg had been hesitant to converse, but as of late he had been coming out more, something she tried to encourage.

"Yeah, to the father's tires. He admitted to braking hard, something about an argument."

"So you were right?" Sara smiled, glancing up at him, "good job."

"It was just a guess," he stated, but it was clear the praise had reached him.

"Well, that's kind of what we do here. We keep guessing until we get the evidence to support our ideas. It's what makes it…intriguing I guess. The real reward comes when you put someone away, get them off the streets, and find the victims some closure."

"Are you okay?" Greg asked suddenly, veering off topic quickly. At her questioning look he cleared his throat. "About last night? Everything was..."

"I'm okay," Sara reassured him, giving him a small smile. "It was hard, I have to admit, but you deserved to know. I should have told you sooner, some things I should have told you before the accident."

"I'm glad you waited, if you hadn't you'd have to explain it twice," he stated with a laugh.

Sara couldn't bring herself to enjoy the joke, somewhat hurt at his lack of respect towards everything, yet knowing at the same time he was trying to ease the tension that was felt in the room. She smiled inwardly, for the first time he was starting to sound like himself.

"I should get going," he stood up, breaking the silence that hung in the room. But instead of leaving, he paused, leaning over the table to get a better look at the photograph that sat on one of the folders. "Is this your victim?" he wondered, glancing up at her for confirmation.

Sara nodded, not bothering to explain that the man in the photograph was the latest in a string of murders. She concentrated instead on the vial of blood, picking it up with gloved hands.

"I've seen him before," Greg muttered quietly.

Still his words did not get by her. "You've seen him before?" Sara looked up, watching as he studied the picture. He only gave a visual confirmation, as he moved around to the other side of the table.

"Do you remember where?"

"In the newspaper," he stated, straightening up.

"What one?" she urged him, giving him a moment to think.

"I…I don't remember. It was a while back. Why?"

"Just thinking…" and thinking she was, as an idea struck suddenly. Scooting back she pushed herself to her feet, heading back towards the file cabinet. Greg followed curiously, watching as she opened the top drawer, sifting through the files before pulling several out.

"Here," she breathed, pulling out another photo, "Do you recognize this person?"

Studying the picture for a minute, Greg shook his head, doing the same as she pulled several more out. "I don't know any of them…sorry."

"It's okay," Sara reassured him, placing the folders back in their spots. "You've given us a starting point."

* * *

She sat down on the edge of the desk, letting out a weary sigh. "Grissom, will you just give me one second of your time?"

"Fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds worth of distance run," he quoted easily, not even bothering to look up.

Sara let out a smug smile, "Kipling, how cute. But you're still not paying attention. I have a lead in our serial case."

He looked up then, taking off his glasses. "Well then, take as much time as you need."

"Greg said he saw our latest victim in the newspapers a while back, so I did some research. "It turns out our vic was a part-time author, just publishing his third book a few months ago. He was here in Vegas to autograph books, do some interviews."

"I assume this is going somewhere?" Grissom interrupted her, urging her to get her point out.

"So I kept researching. All of our other victims have been in the newspaper prior to their murder. Different times, different newspapers, all for one accomplishment or another. Winner of the marathon run, author of a book, promotion to the head of a company…"

"That's how he picks them out," Grissom nodded. "He reads the paper."

"Not just any paper," Sara corrected him. "Some of them were in only one newspaper, but the others, they were covered by several businesses, but there was only one that covered them all. Las Vegas Review Journal."

**TBC**

* * *

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, it's my only fuel for writing everything. I **

**hope**** you're all enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it. Some quick responses to reviews, I'll try to have a full r2r next chapter. **

**Jenny70529**

Hey Girl, sorry I haven't gotten back to you yet, it's been busy. I know that you understand how that goes, (prb better than I do) but it is good to see you reviewing!

**Aidrianna**

So, you've found my weakness. It's one of my biggest problems, I try to catch it, and correct it, but it's always hard. We all have our weaknesses I guess. As far as writing Greg goes, it's hard as well, but I knew it would be before I started writing this story. I don't have any experience what-so-ever, so I'm relying off of internet information and my own perspectives. I'm glad you find it believable.

**goblz**

The other half of the summary is also the other half of this story. As you may have figured the case is far from dead, but at least they have something to go off of for now.As far as who it would be, I had several ideas at first, but my, ahem, 'chosen' victim will fit nicely. At least that's what I'm hoping, I still have to write it, lol.


	21. A New Lead

**Wonderful thanks to all my reviewers, you guys are awesome. Here's another chapter for all of you. **

**Disclaimer: The Review Journal is an actual paper, I do not own it, but the characters are fictional.**

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**Chapter Twenty-One: A New Lead**

"Of course we've covered them all. We're the largest newspaper source in the city; it's our job to cover every story, however big or small."

"But most people don't end up dead later on," Sara pointed out. She was quick to keep up with the lady, her sunglasses resting on her head as they walked through the building. Around her, printers were humming, fingers were flying, the steady sound of work encased all of them.

"A handful of people Ms. Sidle, not every single person. There are a lot of people in this valley, a lot of chances they would end up dead. It's part of life, intentional or not. You can't blame this company for anything."

"Ms. Jeen," Sara cleared her throat as they came to a stop. The other woman was pouring herself a cup of coffee, taking a hasty sip before turning to face her. "A lot more than just a handful of people have been killed. There's no end to this unless we stop it. So far you're the only thing that all these people have in common."

"What do you want us to do?" she asked impatiently. "We have a job to do, we can't just stop everything."

"DNA samples, fingerprints, they would be a helpful start. If we could have a look around the place."

"You can take what you want as long as you have the consent of the other workers, and as long as you don't interfere. We just lost a third of our company, we're trying to downsize. I can't afford to have…distractions." She made the last statement as she left the room, not even bothering to look back.

Sara exchanged a quick look with Nick, who had held his tongue during the entire interview. In truth, it hadn't been very helpful, but it was a start.

"You know," Nick started, taking his hands from his pockets and crossing them in front of his chest, "the DNA samples won't be any help unless we have something to compare them too, which, may I remind you, we don't."

"Not yet at least," Sara countered him optimistically, "But we have a whole room of potential suspects."

"I think you need to get some sleep," he pointed out quickly, before changing the tone of his voice. "This is just kind of a dead end lead Sara. A stalker doesn't track people through the newspaper, that's kind of like opening the phone book, closing your eyes and stabbing the page with your finger to see who you come up with. There is no method."

"Maybe," Sara shrugged, watching the others mill about as they took their break. "But I know something you don't."

"Which is?"

"All of our victims were in the paper for a length's time. I mean, they weren't just in and out; it followed their life for at least a couple of months. Each stalker has their own way of following people. You of all people should know that. Look at Nigel Crane…"

Nick put his hand up quickly, stopping her there. "You don't need to remind me," he nodded. "I can see what you're saying, but the newspaper wouldn't have told them where they lived, or shopped, or what hours they worked…"

"He or she may have not followed them through the paper, but only picked them out. It's not hard to start following someone then."

"But none of the vics reported having any troubles prior to the kidnapping. In a normal stalking situation you'd see change of phone numbers, new locks installed, reports to the police…" Nick shrugged.

"Maybe this isn't our normal stalker," Sara suggested, trading a quick look with him.

"Maybe…" Nick agreed with a shrug, moving to open his case. "So, do you want the swabs or the flashlight?"

Sara gave him a stern smile, reaching for the flashlight he handed her. "You're the people person."

* * *

Greg reached over to grab the bag, stopping moments before he did touch it. Gloves…he had to remember to wear gloves. He let out a breath, pulling a pair free from his jacket pocket that Warrick had given him earlier.

The first bag contained accessories worn by their victim. He was careful to take them out, a pair of earrings first, large golden hoops. Blood stained the top of the first one, and he noticed it was bent in the middle.

He put them down, reaching back into the bag to pull free a necklace, and a small ring. A normal attire of a teenage girl he supposed. The necklace matched the earrings, several small beads were missing, leaving the ones that were left cracked. The ring was mostly intact, bearing little damage.

Slipping them back inside the bag he proceeded to grab another bag, pulling free the clothes she had worn that night. He searched the pockets, already knowing they would be empty, before moving onto the shoes.

"Hey, what are you doing? You're supposed to be on break."

Greg meet Warrick's gaze briefly, before looking back down at the evidence before him. "I know, I was just going over some stuff here, see if I find anything."

Warrick nodded, coming to watch over his shoulder. "All that's been processed, anything that's been found is in the reports that you've already read."

"I know," he said once again, "I was just thinking that maybe if I saw it for myself, I may understand things better."

He came to a pause as he pulled the shirt out, the single hole up near the left shoulder. The white fabric was stained red, spreading across the chest. The sweater was the same as well.

"Whatever works for you man," Warrick encouraged him, patting him on the back before leaving. "Just don't exhaust yourself."

"Did you see this?" Greg asked suddenly, ignoring his last comment. He lifted the sweater up, motioning with his free hand. "What does that look like?"

Warrick had come back, leaning over the table this time as he studied the piece of fabric around the hole. He didn't see it at first, but when Greg pointed again he frowned. "Fragments of something…I don't remember seeing them before."

"Our vic was running through a wooded area…splinters maybe?" Greg suggested.

"In the stab wound?" Warrick asked skeptically. "She would have to be stabbed with a piece of wood for that to happen…that would make sense, explain the jagged edges…go ahead and do a tape lift, get it to trace."

"Where's trace?" Greg wondered, catching the other man's eye.

Warrick closed his eyes, cursing himself. He had forgotten. "I'll show you," he nodded towards the younger man. "You remember how to do the tape lift, right?"

"You showed me an hour ago," Greg reminded him. "I can't forget that fast."

"Just checking," Warrick confessed, holding his hands out to his side. Greg shook his head as he pressed the tape against the fabric, lifting slowly. Warrick nodded his approval, "Let's see if you're right."

**TBC**


	22. Comforting Nights

**Yes, I know, I haven't updated this in forever, and this is a short piece, not very long, but it's something at least. Hopefully I won't run into another writer's block. We'll have to see. Hope you enjoy. **

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**Chapter Twenty-Two: Comforting Nights **

He shouldn't have gone, but he so desperately needed a break. Okay, maybe not desperately, but it did feel nice to stretch his legs, and a cup of coffee sounded quite a bit more tempting than it should have. Grissom, however, resented it as soon as he walked past the open door.

He met the steady gaze of Ecklie's, who quietly nodded to Sofia as she left, their conversation coming to an abrupt halt. For what reason, Grissom wasn't sure, but it made him…not quite nervous, but apprehensive.

Letting it pass, he continued on in, toward the back of the room to where the coffee pot sat. It wasn't a surprise that it was empty, Greg after all was the one who normally kept up on it, but since the accident things had changed. Many things had changed since then…

"I read the evaluations you turned in," Ecklie commented, breaking the silence as Grissom filled the pot with water. When he didn't respond, Ecklie continued on. "I also noticed that there were a few missing."

"Sara and Greg haven't been in the field long enough this last year to be evaluated," Grissom commented quietly, watching as the first few drops ran through the filter and into the pot. "With the seminar they went to and all the medical leave I haven't had a chance to evaluate them, and at any rate, it wouldn't be fair."

"The lab still requires full evaluations; it represents their work and contribution to this lab, you can't play it to their needs. The evaluations are not about them, they're about this lab. If someone is taking more than they are giving, that's a problem."

"You've never seemed to have a problem with it before," Grissom replied quietly, taking his first real sip of the fresh coffee.

Ecklie's face became tight, considering the comment for a moment. "I'll pretend you didn't say that," he shifted, taking a seat on the edge of the table. Grissom made a mental note to never eat there again. "Sara and Greg have given to this lab, I'll admit. But there comes a time when enough is enough. The lab can't support them when they're not doing anything. We need reliable, dependable people working in this lab."

"You want me to fire them?"

The question didn't need to be answered, and Grissom wasn't surprised. Most of the time Ecklie didn't need to say anything, you could tell what he wanted with one look at him. Taking another sip of his coffee he took a breath, rephrasing his question. "You want me to get rid of one of the best criminalist this lab has had in years, and a rookie who risked everything to move a step ahead, in what is the darkest time of their lives because you feel that it's the best?" He paused here, for only a moment though, "For who, exactly?"

When Ecklie said nothing to the effect, it gave him a chance to elaborate. "Sara has put far more hours in than we've ever asked, and certainly more than her doctor has told her too, and Greg's doing a fine job of keeping up on everything. In fact, he solved his first case tonight since coming back."

Ecklie said nothing, only sitting there as he stared blankly at the wall, seemingly desperate to come up with the response. Grissom only gave him a bleak smile, refilling his mug, "I guess I'll be going, after all, I don't want to take away more than I give," he stated smugly, lifting his mug in mock admiration as he headed out the door.

* * *

There was blood…so much blood; she could smell it, feel it; in her hair, on her face, her hands. Warm, it was so warm, and she was standing there, just standing, watching it pool onto the ground. Unable to move she just stood there, watching him die…

It pooled around her bare feet, covering her toes, over the tops of her feet. The body was motionless in front of her, and it bothered her that she couldn't see his face. Somehow, she knew it was him, and still, she couldn't move. Her feet were grounded, as if the blood was holding them there in place.

Slowly she raised her eyes, seeing her reflection in the mirror, blinking slowly. Suddenly she wasn't there anymore, wherever there was, instead she was in the morgue, the blood gone, the smell of death still strong. Doc Robbins gave her a pitying smile, a comforting hand as he made his way over to the coolers, asking her if she was ready.

She muttered that she was, although she could hardly believe it was her voice. It was so weak, scratchy, as though she had been crying forever. In one fluid movement he opened the door, pulling the blanketed form out. Her heart began to pound, beating faster with each movement as he reached over and pulled the cloth down.

The darkness did nothing to ease her as Sara sat up quickly, letting out a cry and gasping at the same time, prompting a coughing fit. She hadn't realized until now how cold it was, so cold, just like the morgue was…

The tears came on there own, as she wrapped her arms around her knees for her own protection. She wasn't sure if she could ever go back into the morgue, not anymore. Even though she hadn't seen Greg in her nightmare, she knew it was him, that he was the one under the blanket.

All of this, and after the night had gone so well. They had gone out again, a small celebration for his victory. She was surprised to hear what had transpired, hardly able to believe it as Warrick told her with a grin. Greg had stood sheepishly by the side, voicing that he hadn't really done anything.

Trace had shown the debris were small bits of wood, leading the two men back to the scene. After nearly an hour of searching they found it. A fallen tree, still sprouting broken limbs. Several were broken off to a point, but only one had blood on it. Blood that came back as a match to their victim.

Warrick ran the case with him, talked it through. Evidence suggested in the end that it was accidental, that the girl had tripped while fleeing from her father, landing on the upturned log. It would explain the jagged wound, the splinters being inside the wound tract. Warrick concluded that she must have picked herself up, continuing on several more paces before collapsing from the loss of blood, her momentum carrying her down the hill.

Shakily she pulled her covers back, padding across the bare floor, and down the hallway. The door was open, Greg never closing it, so it gave her easy access. She wasn't sure why she need to see him, she knew in her mind that he was okay, but part of her just needed to see him, needing to reassure herself.

Shivering she wrapped her arms about herself, listening to him breathe. From here she could just see the top of his head, his naturally brown hair poking up in different directions, a result of not combing his hair after showering.

Sara wasn't sure what was prompting her, but slowly she found herself moving further in, grasping the edge of the covers. Greg didn't stir as she lifted them up, nor did he awaken as she slid under the heavy warmth. As her head hit the pillow she let out a sigh, closing her eyes as she tried to stay quiet, much as a child does when they're fearful of being caught doing something wrong.

She had forgotten how good this all felt, being so close to him. Still she maintained her distance, as she rolled over onto her side, facing him. The covers were drawn clear up to his nose, just under his eyes that seemed to peer out of a cocoon. Although he may be different when awake, Sara couldn't help but smile to know he was very much the same when he was asleep.

Unable to describe how safe she felt here, she closed her own eyes, relishing in the feeling of a good night's sleep. Her only concern was what would happen in the morning, when the both of them awoke, part of her knowing that she was pressing too hard. She was fast asleep, however, before she could even change her mind.

Unable to describe how safe she felt here, she closed her own eyes, relishing in the feeling of a good night's sleep. Her only concern was what would happen in the morning, when the both of them awoke, part of her knowing that she was pressing too hard. She was fast asleep, however, before she could even change her mind.

**TBC**


	23. Suspicions

**Another short one, but hopefully I'll be able to update again on Monday. Hope you enjoy**

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Suspicions**

It was a good thing that the garage wasn't in use. It meant that they could stretch themselves out, rather than be confined to one small corner. A tarp was stretched out on the ground, white in color, held down by weights on each of the four corners. It provided extra insurance, that if something was dropped, or spilled, it would keep possible evidence from being contaminated.

Sara had seated herself at one end, sorting through a pile of trash that was near her side. The call came in earlier that morning, and she had gone in reluctantly. She held a gloved hand up to her forehead, breathing deeply as she futilely wished away the growing migraine, with little success.

Across from her, Nick glanced up, the concern obvious on his face. He was sitting only a few feet away in his own relaxed position, also going through his own pile of evidence that had been pulled from several dumpsters. Although there hadn't been another attack in nearly months, this latest one had increased in violence. The body had been dismembered, spread throughout three different dumpsters down a single alleyway.

Nick pulled free a pile of wadded paper towels, pulling them apart carefully as he turned his concentration away once again. "You okay Sar?" he asked, taking only a quick moment to watch her reaction.

She glanced up hurriedly, unaware that he had been watching her. She gave him half a nod, pulling a bloody phone book from the pile. Several small drops rolled off the cover, onto the ground near her foot. "Yeah…" she nodded again, making a face. "Just a headache…"

"We'll take a break here in a bit," Nick encouraged her, knowing full well that he probably had more sleep than Sara. A lot had changed in the last few months, more with Sara than it had Greg. The ex-lab rat was still learning daily, but he was long way from where he had first been. There had been no indication that he remembered even a little bit from his past, which discouraged everyone from hoping for a full recovery. He was still detached, often quiet, seemingly shy, as if afraid to trust. Still, Nick couldn't really judge him, after all, he hadn't the slightest clue to what his old friend was experiencing.

Sara had also become detached, but that wasn't all that worried the Texan. She hardly spoke to anyone anymore, only when it was necessary. Sara had also lost quite a bit of weight, surely from stress and depression, that alone wasn't surprising. He became bitter at that thought, for a moment blaming Greg for doing this to her, before reminding himself that there was no way Greg could control any of it.

He wouldn't have believed it before, to hear that Sara and Greg were dating, it was a shocker when he first found out. Though the signs were obvious, and he secretly prayed that it wouldn't last…he loved her almost as much as Greg did. And it was clear that Greg did love her, or at least once did. It was then Nick resigned to the fact that nothing would even happen between him and Sara. She was already taken, and instead of feeling bitter he had been supportive of the pair, as a good friend should be.

Now, however, things had changed. He hated seeing her like this, most of the time Sara seemed like a zombie, unaware of how much she was changing, or how she was affecting the others by her actions.

"I'm surprised Greg didn't come in," he voiced quietly, waiting to see what her reaction would be.

"He's sleeping," she replied quietly. "I asked if he wanted to, but he turned me down. It is his night off, so…" she shrugged, not even glancing up.

"Greg never use to turn work down…you remember, he was so eager to learn before…"

"That was before," Sara cut him off, "He doesn't have the same motivation now. He'll do the work, but I don't think he really enjoys it."

Nick nodded, knowing by her tone of voice that she wasn't in the mood to discuss it. Clearing his throat he tried again, this time a different topic, anything at all just to get her talking. "Brass finally finished with all the interviews…newspaper business is a bust."

"You're kidding," Sara glanced up at him, "all those people and none of them match the description?"

Nick shook his head, "There were thirteen reporters who covered all the victims so far, only three of them have done the same person more than once, and only one that covered one victim for all the stories. Says she was doing a favor for a friend."

"And she doesn't seem a likely suspect because why? Because she's a woman?"

Nick cracked a grin, sorting through the last pile in front of him. "That's what I asked Brass. Stereotyping isn't always a bad thing. However, when her friend turned up dead she waited three days and pulled the plug on herself."

Sara was quiet, a questioning look lining her face. "How long ago?"

"Almost nine months," Nick responded with a sigh, almost to the same that came from Sara. "Besides, she hasn't covered any of the other vic's, so…we need to look elsewhere. It was a nice try…"

"I was almost hoping it was over…" she stated quietly, "Four months, long time for someone to break habit."

Nick came to a stop, staring straight ahead, but not really focusing on anything. "That could work…"

Sara glanced up at him, but by that time it was too late, as he had already left the room. Sara was by herself now, with one large mess, and no real answers.

* * *

It had taken her nearly three hours to clean everything up, all the while grumbling and muttering curses and foul, vulgar names at Nick who had left her to clean up on her own. Now, not only was she tired, but sore as well, with the whole night ahead of her yet.

She was searching the lab now, for any sign of the Texan, and would make sure to give him a piece of her mind when found. Instead, she found someone else, a someone she didn't expect to see.

He was working alone, which was unusual because for the past few months he had always been with someone. Knocking on the open door she allowed herself to come in, watching him over his shoulder.

"I didn't think you were coming in tonight."

Greg shrugged, pulling on a pair of gloves. He had already donned his lab coat, reminder her of the crazy lab rat she once knew. "Grissom thought it would be good if I worked some more in DNA," he answered, reaching over to pick up the first envelope. "I didn't have anything else to do, I figured it couldn't hurt."

Sara nodded, watching as he pulled free the stray hairs. "You need any help?"

"I can handle it on my own," Greg told her quietly, his voice tense. He calmed down a moment later, apologizing.

Sara said nothing to the fact. Lately his emotions had been running high, he was getting angrier more and more often. She was reassured by his doctors that it was normal, that his anger was directed more at himself than anyone else. At first she had fought it just a blatantly as he did, realizing quickly that it wasn't helping anything.

Eventually she learned if she just let him vent, that he would calm down much quicker. Greg eased himself down in the chair, as he prepped the first sample. "Mia's taught me quite a bit, and she'll help me if I get stuck. It's just…everyone keeps stopping by and asking if I need help, they all think I'm stupid or something."

"No one thinks that," Sara told him, "We just want to make sure you're not stuck anywhere. "

She said the last part as her pager went off. Nick was waiting for her up front, and she let out a silent curse, suddenly remember why she had been wandering the halls in the first place. She didn't wait for Greg to responded, somehow knowing he wasn't going anyways. The walk there was short, but long enough for her to think of some rather interesting responses to his disappearance. However, she never got a chance to say a single one, as Nick waved her along hurriedly.

He was bent over a computer screen, and he pointed in satisfaction as she came up. "What you said earlier got me to thinking, I've checked records of arrests and releases within the last year. There's only three listed here that were arrested after the last victim was found four months ago, and released prior to the most recent killing."

"What makes you think it's someone who's in the system?" Sara wondered, grazing through the files.

"Well, like you said. It strange that someone would just fall out of habit for no reason. We've had a killer who's persistent to at least one killing a month. Now all the sudden there's a lag?"

Sara nodded, catching his drift. "The only way he or she would have stopped would be that they couldn't…if they were in lock-up."

"Or probation, house arrest. Some are watched more than others are, it really depends. Why risk it if you think you're being watched?"

"James Marson, arrested under suspicions of fraud, identify theft…are we really looking in the right direction?"

"No charges for murder, a long shot from who we're looking for, but if Grissom's thinking there's an accomplice, one of these might be our guy."

"If you find the mouse you find that cat…" Sara remarked, blushing at the perplexed look he gave her. "It's something my mother used to say…"

"At any rate, Brass is looking to see if we can get them in."


	24. Everything I Do

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Everything I Do**

Sara made a face as she pulled off the last piece of pepperoni, setting it to the side on top of all the others. Although the piece of pizza was nearly mauled by this time, it was now edible, at least to her satisfaction. A cold slice of pizza wasn't her favorite meal, but she wasn't in the mood to drive anywhere, and she couldn't go on much longer pretending she wasn't hungry. In another few hours she would working her third shift and it was pure will power that kept her going now.

It was all she had left to really look forward to. It had broken her heart when Grissom had turned her down, but losing Greg had all but made her numb, unresponsive to what was really happening around her. She was slowly beginning to realize that every relationship she had ended before it could really start. Just as she was truly beginning to trust in Greg, he had been ripped away.

With Hank it had been easy, realizing that they were more friends than anything else. The man had known that before she did, but hadn't wanted to ruin it for her. Yes, he had been wrong to move on behind her back, but Sara wondered dully if she would have done the same if she had been in his situation.

With Grissom however, it had been even easier, mainly because there had been nothing there to start off with. These were petty losses; she had dealt with them, and moved on. But now, after knowing Greg, after seeing what he could offer she felt as though life was cheating her. What had she done to deserve losing the love of her life?

A soft knock on the door caught her attention, and she glanced upward, catching the gaze of the man she thought she knew so well. He stood timidly, as if afraid to interrupt her. "Nick's been trying to page you," Greg muttered quietly. "Brass is reporting a 419 behind a dumpster. He thinks it might be connected to the case."

Sara reached for her pager, realizing only then why she hadn't heard anything. She didn't have it on. She thanked him, her response almost as elusive as his, despite the urging to want to say more.

"You look tired."

A smile crossed her lips as she nodded, glancing back up at him. Greg would only converse on his own terms, otherwise it was a one sided conversation and Sara found it to be a waste of breath. "I'll be okay…are you coming along?"

He shook his head, "I'm going to head home…I finished up the samples in the DNA lab, Mia says there nothing else to do."

"You can do field work too."

Greg shrugged, shaking his head slightly. "I'm tired."

"Well, if you change your mind…" Sara trailed off, knowing full well she was just wasting her time. Why, after all these months, did she continually try to change him?

Greg shook his head again, a big surprise there. She already knew that he would. Instead of pressing she smiled, "Go get some sleep. I won't be too much longer."

She watched with a sad smile as he left, still hanging onto the thin strand of hope that one day she would be able to see the man she loved.

* * *

"What victim would this one make?" Sara asked dully as she trudged up behind the man.

"We don't know for certain if it related Sar," Nick reminded her, examining the body in front of him. "She doesn't match the others. Far too young, everything's intact. I'm guessing random body dump. This area's been advertised on the news; they know we've picked up most of the bodies along this road."

Sara nodded, glancing around the open area. It was so far off the strip one wouldn't even guess that they were near Vegas, let alone in it. There was a streetlight, every third intersection or so, that kept enough light so that it wasn't entirely black, but not enough to really accomplish anything.

All the buildings along here were run down, old factories and warehouses that were no longer used. They had been abandoned for years, but the city wasn't about to consider any type of construction. It would cost more money to tear them down and find something to take their place than it would to just leave them alone.

The only traffic that came this way were those who came from the south, headed towards the strip, and back home again, and seeing that there were no real reports of crime until the recent body dumps, the city saw little need to do anything.

"Someone trying to cover up their act by placing the blame on someone else," Sara muttered through a yawn. She glanced up with a frown, seeing the Texan struggling to hold back a laugh, his face wide in a grin. "What?"

"How long have you been here?" Nick questioned, pulling the small light from his vest pocket. It lit up the surrounding area fairly well, which was surprising for its size.

"About two minutes."

"Working Sara, working," Nick steered her back on track, unable to resist the small laugh.

"Does it matter?"

She tried not to snap, but she knew she was growing angry. Nick didn't deserve to be put out; he hadn't done anything offensive or obtrusive. He was being a good friend, trying to watch out for her, despite the simple fact she didn't need to be watched. She ran a hand through her hair, hanging her head back as she stared up at the night sky that was slowly disappearing behind a layer of clouds.

When she glanced over at him the man had barely taken any notice. Nick was moving further down one of the alleyways, taking care to step cautiously, checking for any signs of a struggle, a getaway, something they could use to help catch the killer. Sara hung her hands between her knees, still crouched low to the pavement. For some odd reason she no longer wanted to be here. Not only could she not find the strength to move, but she couldn't find the motivation either.

Nick had moved further down the alleyway, she could barely see him now. She should at least try to catch up with him. As much as she hated it there was no one else, plus the simple fact she needed the money. Grabbing her water bottle she took a long enough drink to wet her lips, wishing now that she some aspirin, with her head acting up as it was. Maybe it was a sign she needed some rest.

Sara stood up quickly, maybe a little too quick, one hand reaching out to steady herself as she swayed, but was meet with open air. A groan escaped her lips as her hands hit the concrete, the small rocks and pebbles imbedding into her skin.

Despite the sharp pain she felt in both palms of her hands and in her one knee, Sara held herself there in the same position, closing her eyes as world spun around her. She felt fine up until a moment ago, why was all this happening now?

"Sara?"

Nick had an arm wrapped around her, his fingers closing around her wrist in order to help support her weight. Instead of pulling away from him like she normally would, she allowed him to help, leaning against his steady frame.

"I'm okay," she breathed, leaning back on her heels. She swayed; Nick's hold the only thing keeping her from falling again.

"We should get you home," Nick told her, worry crossing his face as he studied her pale complexion.

"I just need a few minutes," Sara tried to argue, but her voice fell short, hanging her head as her eyes closed once more.

"You're on overtime and I'm the lead," Nick explained to her as he straightened up. He tugged on her forearm gently, helping her to a standing position as well. "Don't argue with me."

"This isn't my car," she complained dolefully as Nick opened up the passenger side door. The Texan only smiled, waiting until he had helped buckle her in before responding.

"We'll have someone come and get your car later."

Sara couldn't shake the sudden weariness that had crept over her, one of the oddest feelings she had ever experienced. Leaning her head against the cool passenger window she rested with her eyes halfway closed, barely listening as Nick talked with the on scene officer.

It wasn't until Nick was shaking her awake that she was aware she had even fallen asleep. One thing was for certain, she already felt better. Not great, but better. Nick helped her up the stairs, despite her protests that she was indeed fine. He had gotten her this far, surely she could make the rest of the way. She ended up using the spare key; everything was still back at the lab at the moment.

Sara fumbled for the switch in the darkness, more than eager to take care of herself now, but Nick had come on in without an invitation, still holding onto one of her arms. She ignored it for the time being, her eyes instead searching over the empty apartment. "Funny…"

"What's funny?" Nick wondered, helping her on the couch. He took a seat on the edge as she rested back against he cushions, studying her. She was still pale, though nowhere near as much as she had been before. The color was slowly returning to her cheeks, her eyes were more alert. But the far off look remained, the only real thing that still worried him.

"Nothing," Sara waved him off, moving to stretch out on the couch. "Just that Greg said he was coming home, that's all."

Nick pulled the blanket that was folded on the back of the couch and covered her, tucking the corners in around her chin before he sat back down. She was half asleep, the fatigue obvious in her. For a moment he considered having someone check her out, just to be certain she was indeed going to be okay, but he let it pass. He knew it was combination of stress, sleepless nights and lack of motivation in caring for herself.

If there was a way he could change everything for the better than he would. There was little more that he wanted than to see his friends back to normal, for life to get back to normal. Nick covered her hand in his, giving it a quick squeeze as he stood, careful not to wake the sleeping figure. For now all he could do was take life one step at a time, and lend a hand when it was needed. Somehow he felt they both would need it before anyone saw the end of this.

* * *

The crash of thunder was what woke her, Sara holding her breath as her eyes flew open, blinking in the abrupt darkness. It was silent again, save for the pounding rain and her prolonged breaths that filled the empty space. The apartment was light up in a brilliant flash, another roar of thunder as another wave of rain slammed against the window. This must have been what was coming.

Searching for the time she was confused to as why the clock was no longer resting under the lamp; it was then she understood that there was no power. Letting out a groan she sat up, kicking off the blankest as she stretched into open, figuring that she must have slept for a few good hours judging by the blackness outside.

Another flash of lightning made her jump, and she cursed herself before laughing, pawing her way along the wall until her eyes adjusted once more. Surely Greg wouldn't be sleeping through this. Sara knew he had his times where an atomic bomb couldn't wake him, but overall he was relatively light sleeper. She in fact took a longer time in waking up than he did.

There had been a time where she had fallen asleep at the kitchen counter while waiting for food delivery. Greg, who had been sleeping clear back in the bedroom at the time, had been the one to wake up first. He had also eaten all the food as well, without even waking her up. He had apologized however, simply stating he didn't know the food was supposed to be for the both of them.

Her eyes searched through the darkness, a bitter surprise to find the bed not only empty, but in the same state as it was when she last saw it. Greg had not been home anytime recently. Still hanging in a shred of denial she called out his name, waiting pitifully for an answer.

Walking slowly she pulled open the closet door, letting out a sigh of relief as she felt his clothes still hanging there. It had always been a big issue for her in the past, whenever a boyfriend was late coming home, the closet was always the first place she looked.

Sara let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. What was she thinking? Wandering back out towards the kitchen she fished for her phone she knew Nick had deposited on the counter, dialing Greg's number first. His voice mail was the same recording as before, long before the crash. She smiled briefly at his high pitched voice as he attempted to sound like Cher.

Letting out a dull sigh she didn't bother leaving a message, instead she ended the call, already dialing the next number. She had to wait just a short second before it was answered. "Judy, its Sara. I was just wondering if Greg went back in to work…"

* * *

"I didn't do nothing," the man complained, his arms folded across his chest. At first glance you wouldn't think of him as a criminal. He looked in fact quite like a family man. Long locks of blonde hair that rested on his head evenly, a bit of stubble around his chin. His blue eyes were crisp; clearly irritated that he had been dragged into the station.

"You have several convictions of fraud, impersonation, identity theft," Brass read the list, his eyes flicking between the suspect and the papers in his hand. "You've done plenty."

"I've served my jail time, house arrest; I've done that laughable thing you people like to call community service," he griped, his glare even with that of the detectives. "You have no reason to pull me in here."

Nick watched from behind the plated glass, a near look of boredom crossing his face. Maybe rounding up all these cons wasn't the best of ideas; so far they had gotten nothing out of them. They all had alibis, excuses, answers. The only thing worse than a cold case that was at a dead end was a red hot one that couldn't be stopped. Out there was a killer, someone who would continue his devious acts until he was stopped, or scared into submission.

He rubbed his forehead, stepping away as the process continued. This was their last suspect, and if nothing came off from him, he would be heading home. He knew his limits, knew that he had just about reached them. As his phone went off for the third time Nick finally moved to answer it, turning his back away from the two way mirror.

"Stokes."

It was hard to hear the cluttered mess of words that came out, but he recognized the voice immediately. His grip tightened as he heard the distress in her voice, fearing the worst.

"What is it?"

Sara drew in a breath, calming herself down. Now was not the time to panic. "You haven't seen Greg at all, have you?"

"He's still not home?"

Sara shook her head, leaning against the counter. The power had returned nearly an hour ago, and she had been busy calling everyone in the city in order to track down her lost friend. If she had her car there was nothing that would have stopped her from jumping inside and patrolling the streets. The only stopping her now from doing so in a taxi was the simple fact she had no money on her.

"He's not answering his cell, and no one's seen him…I've even called the hospitals Nicky, I don't know what else to do."

She was close to crying, the fear to great to even try and ignore. It was nothing new for Greg to go off on his own, but normally he would let her know. And even when he did he always kept his phone on, willing to keep that tie open. Never before had he completely shut her out like this, and it was scaring her, the only possible conclusion left in her mind was that he was hurt.

She chastised herself, angry that she hadn't done something sooner. She should have known something was wrong the minute she walked through the door, seeing then that he hadn't been home. Nick's voice was reassuring on the other end, but she barely caught it, her attention focused on the door as it opened slowly.

"I've got to go," she breathed, "he just walked through the door."

Greg didn't say anything, didn't even look at her as he walked past, his hair plastered to his head as the water dripped from the ends. Sara watched with growing concern as he eased himself down onto the couch, silent as ever.

He did take the towel that was offered to him, using slow motions to wipe away the excess water, pressing his face into the soft fabric. He knew that Sara was watching him, waiting for an answer. Letting out a sigh he finished wiping his eyes, draping the towel around his neck.

"I went out for a while…" he started quietly, only to be cut off.

"I tried calling you."

"I left my phone in my locker," he explained, taking another breath. "I found a place…" he grew quiet here, unsure of how to explain. Sara had taken a seat next to him, mouth hanging open slightly. "Tomorrow after work, I'm going to start packing, stay there for a while."

Sara started to protest but Greg was quicker, cutting her off before she could even start. "Its small and it doesn't cost very much. I'll be able to pay for everything. You don't have to worry…"

"Greg, this is your place," Sara said sadly, shaking her head. "If you don't want me here…you just have to say so."

She felt as though her heart was breaking, wishing she could convince herself that this was another one of her nightmares. Part of her was relieved as Greg shook his head, but she didn't want to hear his answer.

"I'm not going to kick you out," he told her softly.

"And you're not going to just walk out of an apartment that's yours," Sara told him firmly. "You invited me to stay…if anyone's leaving it's going to be me."

"Where will you stay?" Greg wondered, meeting her gaze. The look in his eyes was nearly mirror reflection of hers; caught up in place he didn't want to be. "I'm the problem Sara; I'm the one that can't handle it. I'm not going punish you for it."

"I can find a place," Sara reassured him, her bottom lip trembling as she tried to hold back the tears. "I love you Greg…and I'll give you as much space and time as you need, because I know you're in there somewhere, and I know that one of these days everything will be back to normal…"

She stopped there, turning away to wipe her eyes. Greg had started to protest, his voice regretful that he had even brought up the suggestion.

"Sara…"

She shook him off, already standing. All she needed was a few of her things, a destination set in mind. Greg watched her go with growing distress, knowing that this, all of this was wrong. And yet, wasn't it the same thing he had longed for? To be alone, to have his own space?

He met her eyes as she came out of the bedroom, one small bag packed, her face crestfallen. She moved to say something, but decided against it as she headed towards the door, pausing long enough to grab her phone.

Greg only watched her go, a mixture of emotions that somehow resembled a cocktail, one that he didn't want to drink. If this had been so strong of a decision, then why did he all the sudden feel so miserable?

**TBC**


	25. Trouble Ahead

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Trouble Ahead**

Greg was the last person he expected to see as he opened the door. The young man stood with his hands in his pockets, his head and clothes drenched from the rain. Vegas could be unforgiving when it came to storms, getting wet was only a slight part of it.

When the silence began to strain it was Greg who broke it first, his voice weak and scratchy, almost as if he had been yelling…or crying maybe. "I need to talk to Sara."

"You've already talked with her," Nick replied without missing a beat. Maybe he was being a little unreasonable, but he was tired of playing the games. Greg always wanted one thing or another, and for these past few months had tried to center everything around himself, lining up what was best for him. Nick had tried to put up with it, but sending Sara away after all she had done for him had been the final straw.

Greg continued to stand there staring at him, as if he had somehow missed what the Texan had said. Nick made no move to offer an invitation inside, and the younger man wasn't about to break the silence. He wasn't sure how far he could push the older man, and wasn't willing to try.

"It's okay Nicky," Sara's voice broke between them, the brunette coming up from behind. She was dressed in button up shirt that surely belonged to Nick, as if the faded football on the sleeve was any indication.

With a reluctant sigh the Texan pulled back, heading into the kitchen without another word. Once again it was Sara to his rescue. He felt sorry for her more than anything else. Everyone was able to see there was nothing left between them, everyone that was save for Sara. She still clung to that invisible thread, the one that had been broken months ago.

From his position, Nick could hear the conversation well, even though he tried his hardest not to eavesdrop. Greg was busy apologizing, telling her in his own words what had happened, why he had said the things that he had. Nick only huffed lightly as he poured the two cups with the steaming coco.

Greg could do whatever he wanted, say whatever he could; it wouldn't change what had happened. He hadn't been the one to find Sara on his doorstep, hadn't been the one to take her in without a single question. She had been shivering, drenched from the top of her head clear to her socks that were inside her shoes.

There were no questions, just a simple understanding; she hadn't needed to tell him anything that had happened. Silently taking in her appearance, he had ushered her in and set off to find some dry clothes. Likewise there was no need for her to ask to use the shower, and Nick had left everything outside the bathroom door before leaving to make something to warm her up once she was out.

It was here that the knock on the door had come, and for the life of him Nick wished that Sara had still been in the shower. He could easily say no, but Sara had her own faults, and weaknesses. Placing the freshly toasted bread on the tray next the warm cups of coco he let out a sigh. Everything was ready; all that was needed now was Greg's departure. He enjoyed the man's company at times, but three was a crowd, and his standings with the young CSI was little more than tolerable at the moment.

The conversation between the pair, if you could even call it that-seeing that Greg had done most of the talking-, was reaching new levels of opposition. Nick couldn't say exactly what the argument was about, but it was clear they were doing their best to keep their voices down, whether it be for the time of the night or the simple fact he stood a few measly steps away he wasn't sure. He did know one thing for certain, like it or not he had to intervene. And there was no better time than now.

Nick wasn't sure who looked more surprised as he came into the room, rambling off incessantly. One thing was for certain, it had indeed interrupted the ongoing conversation. Sara had her arms crossed in front of her chest, her back towards the wall as she faced Greg. The man had turned around to watch him, his drenched features only serving to make him seem more vulnerable than he was already.

"I'm not interrupting am I?" Nick asked a little coldly. He tried to stay upbeat, a smile on his face. The man was using the one and only thing he knew that would work; simply trying to stay close. It was the one thing Greg had shied away from, ever since the accident the CSI had drawn into himself, steering clear of any close contact.

"We'll talk later," Sara spoke up, catching Greg's attention as he turned back to her. The man nodded, returning something in a quiet tone. It went unheard by Nick, but it made the brunette smile, leaving the Texan to wonder if intruding on them had been the best of ideas.

Still as Greg turned Nick was quick to act upon it. "Leaving already?" he asked haughtily, raising an eyebrow. "Can I show you the door?"

"I know where it is," Greg replied, his tone of voice nearly matching the Texans. It was all he had said as he trudged by, a few seconds passed before the front door was opened and closed shortly after. Finally they were alone, and Nick turned, expecting to find the mild mannered Sara that had first shown up at his doorstep.

Therefore he was surprised to find that façade had dissipated, and an irate Sara standing in the same place. "You didn't have to do that."

"Sounded like you needed a hand," Nick replied, growing a tad angry that his efforts had been dismissed. He set the tray down on the coffee table, inviting Sara to have some.

The brunette came over, a little reluctantly at first, but managed to take a mug and a single slice of toast as she sat down on the couch. Nick was a bit slower, taking his time to study the woman in front of him. Her hair had fallen in front of her face, covering the worn expression.

"You want to talk?"

Sara shook her head even as she took another sip of the warm liquid. No, talking was the last thing she wanted to do. Her mind was set, she wanted nothing more than to curl up in ball and disappear. Her tired eyes met those of Nick's; the man was obviously worried so she let out a comforting smile. "I think I'm just going to get some sleep," she told him quietly. "If it's okay that I stay here for the night."

"Stay as long as you need," Nick nodded. "You okay with sleeping on the couch?"

"I've been these last few months," Sara replied dimly, "one more night isn't going to kill me."

"I thought that you and Greg were…"

Sara shook her head. "Sometimes at night, I would sneak in, even if it was for only a few short hours. Just to pretend that it was real…" she laughed, her hand against her head. "I'm rambling, I'm sorry."

"It's for the best," Nick told her standing up. He was collecting the items now as Sara watched him skeptically.

"What is?"

The Texan shrugged, "You and Greg…not living together anymore. I hate that it had to end this way, with Greg kicking you out and all…but things will get better. You'll be able to live your own life this way."

"My life?" Sara asked incredulous. "I have been living my own life, as depressing as it is. It's my business; you have no right to interfere."

"He kicked you out, Sara, and you came to me, that makes it my business."

"I left," she cut in. Her voice was rising again, laced with obvious anger. "I came here because I thought you would understand. Obviously I was wrong."

His brow furrowed in confusion as he watched her get up, stuffing her belongings back into her small bag. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving," she said simply, ignoring his curious look.

"No one is making you leave."

She glared at him, a cold icy stare but it didn't last for long as she turned away, "I made a mistake coming here," she responded.

"Where are you going to go?" Nick wondered, "It's miserable out there, and you're only half-dressed."

She didn't say anything in return, only finished zipping up her bag before leaving the room. Nick had half a mind to follow her, but was dissuaded as she returned a few short minutes later, now dressed in her semi-drenched clothes from before.

"Sara…"

He had called her name, but it hadn't stopped her as she gathered up her few belongings, moving towards the door. It didn't take long for him to catch up to her, one hand against the door as she tried to open it.

"Be reasonable," he tried to convince her. "Wait until morning, or at least until the storms over."

For a moment it seemed as though she was considering it, but shook her head shortly thereafter. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

It was the last thing that was said between them as she pushed past him, not even taking notice of the chill that was in the air. Nick watched her leave with bitter feelings, at the very moment hating the very person that had brought all of this about.

* * *

In all the years he had known Greg, there had been no problems in getting along with him. Now all that had changed, and not only was there a rift between them, but the man had somehow managed to steer Sara away as well.

He hadn't slept the night before, hadn't been able to, still feeling slightly sick from the previous evenings events. Sara had been in and out a few times, but they had never really talked. Greg still continued on just as silently, not even saying something as his supervisor passed out his next case. Or a continuation of an ongoing case.

"The car is in the garage; Nick should be in soon, you're working with him."

So maybe he should have voiced his concerns. Working with Nick certainly wouldn't be the best of ideas, seeing how the man had regarded him earlier. But then he couldn't find the courage to stand up to his supervisor and say something. After all, both he and Nick were grown men; surely they could work around their differences.

Without a second thought Greg changed into his jumpsuit before heading towards the garage. Nick should only be a few minutes behind if Grissom had been right, so he took his time walking through the hall. Even still, the other man could not be found once reaching his destination.

The car was a small Honda, blue in color and would have been in good condition…that was if it wasn't missing half the back side. The vehicle had been found dumped in a junkyard, and would have been junked the following day. Luck had been with the CSI team as one of the workers recognized from the news the previous day. The same car as their latest victim.

The body had been found nearly a week ago, but the car had virtually disappeared. The FBI had their hopes up that this would finally lead to a clue in catching their guy. Greg rubbed his forehead as he approached the car. Technically he wasn't supposed to work on anything unless someone was in the room with him. Even with as much as he had learned in the past few months he still had trouble remembering a few key things. But then again looking was one thing, touching was another.

There had been a hole left in the side near the rear of the vehicle from whatever accident it had been in. It was large enough to allow him a full view inside, but nothing stood out as significant. He wouldn't really be able to look until Nick showed up, speaking of which it was due time for him to show anyways.

Pulling back Greg wandered out of the room, searching the hallways for the lost man. The sooner they finished with work the sooner he could head back to home. Or at least the empty apartment. He regretted his decision some, but couldn't find the courage or motivation to ask for her to come back. For some reason he felt so strongly that having the extra time and space to himself would help. But in the end he realized it was all a mistake.

He barely heard his name as he passed by, pausing for a moment to see if it had actually been said. As Greg was about to continue on he heard the voice again, as well as his name. It was wrong to eavesdrop, but something seemed out of place as he moved closer to the partially open door.

"He can't do the work."

Greg frowned as he leaned against the door. At least he had found Nick, but what exactly was he doing in Ecklie's office…talking about him none-the-less.

"He passed his proficiency, and so far he's had no real problems. Greg is perfectly capable of handling the job."

Ecklie's voice was as monotonous as it was always, but Greg could sense a bit of respect from the man. Nick's voice however was bitter as the Texan continued to speak.

"When he's watched. I have too much to do to be babysitting him. I need someone reliable. All I'm asking is for you to switch him with someone else."

"There is no one else available," Ecklie reminded him. "Besides, shouldn't you be asking this question to Grissom? He's the one who paired you two in the first place."

Greg pulled away with a snort of dissatisfaction, both angered and hurt. Apparently he had not been doing as well as he thought.

**TBC**


	26. Tell Me How

**Major, _major _thanks goes out to Jenny. There would be no chapter here if it wasn't for her. Seriously. She helped me so much on this chatper that I've been stuck on for what seems like forever. Maybe I can get this story moving again. Reviews would certainlly help :D**

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**Chapter Twenty-Six: Tell me How**

So the conversation with Ecklie hadn't gone as planned, Nick for once being completely astounded by the man's decision. A month ago the creep would have been more than eager to find a reason to cut Greg loose. Now he wanted to keep him?

Okay, so maybe he had exaggerated a little, but the truth remained that Greg was slowing everyone down more than helping them. Even so, all Nick was asking was to work with someone different. The Texan doubted he could work the other man even if he wanted.

He had spent most of last night by himself constantly worrying about Sara. Where would she go, who would she stay with? What would she do? There was depression in her eyes, sorrow in her heart, something she could not mend on her own. But what was there left to do when she simply refused to let anyone in again?

There was no doubt about it, Greg had scarred her, purposely or not, there had been permanent damage done. And if that wasn't enough to force him to want to ring the man's neck, it was the simple fact he had disappeared. He should have been waiting for him, ready to process the car.

The conversation hadn't lasted that long with Ecklie, and a maddened Nick had left in defeat, only to arrive at the garage to find it empty. Sure, it was already an hour past the start of their shift, but that wasn't anything to fret about. Greg himself had been later even still on several occasions. It came with the job sometimes, arriving late, leaving in the same fashion, if at all. Greg knew this, so there was no reason for him to have headed off. It was a petty reason, but one good enough to rebuke him for.

Searching the hallways had left him empty-handed, but then again what was he expecting? To find Greg hanging around, shouting cat calls to the female technicians as they walked by? The Texan shook his head at this thought, grumbling under his breath. With his luck Greg was probably off 'talking' with Sara, continuing the very conversation he had interrupted the previous night. It made his blood boil, the simple thought of the man going behind his back to finish up what was started before.

Then again Nick did not own Sara; they were not…together, even as much as he hated to admit it. There was a time, long before Greg and Sara grew closer, that he thought that maybe, just maybe there was something between them. It was the small things that really stood out, the way she would listen to him, understand him even sometimes. Nick found himself able to talk to her about his most private moments and fears.

He had never been able to gather up the courage to ask her out. When they became a couple, Nick knew for certain that nothing ever was going to happen between them. But now…now that Greg had turned away, maybe there was room for that fire to grow once again. Nick knew it was unreasonable, trying to prey on someone who really wasn't in the right state of mind.

Surely Sara wasn't ready for another relationship, seeing that her sights were still set on Greg. This only infuriated Nick more, sometimes it just wasn't fair. Greg had everything he could possibly want, and he was just throwing it all away. Sara loved him…actually truly loved him, and Greg wasn't able to see that.

With all the time he had spent looking for the younger man, it was in fact him that had run into Nick. It happened while rounding the corner, and if Nick hadn't been as quick as he was, they quite literally would have run into one another.

"Where have you been?" Nick questioned almost snapping. Even as angry as he was he still had to maintain some sort of professionalism while at work.

"Working," Greg muttered quietly, pushing past him. Nick was quick to step in front of him again, blocking his path.

"You can't be working, because you were supposed to team up with me on the car. And since you can't work solo, and I haven't started, it's physically impossible for you to be working."

Greg let out a shrug, continuing past him. "I'm doing work that I'm capable of."

Nick came to a stop, even though he had been following the other man. "Ah…I'm gathering you heard then?"

It shouldn't have been a question; it was obvious that Greg had. For a moment he felt guilty, but let it slide by when he remembered why he had gone to Ecklie in the first place.

"I'd like to say that I'm sorry…but I'm not," he added, his voice quiet.

"So am I," Greg replied, growing tense as he did so, "I'm sorry that you think I'm incompetent, I'm sorry that I'm such a chore to work with."

Nick scoffed, both amazed and appalled at his reaction. "You don't know what I think. I do know that everything's changed. You're not the Greg we know, you can't do the work like you used. I hate having to watch over my shoulder all the time, but more so, I hate working with someone who puts themselves above everyone else."

"Funny, you should be used to it by now," Greg commented. "You know what really bothers me though? Everyone talking about me behind my back, about this and about that, like I'm not even there. I may not be the 'the Greg' you all know, but I'm still human, I still have feelings."

"You need to stop jerking people around," Nick warned him. "You can't pretend like your fine one moment, and then expect pity from us."

"I never, once, asked for your pity, Nick," Greg snapped, "I never asked anything from you. I am trying, I am doing the best I can to fit in, to make everyone else happy, but you know what? I can't, I just can't do it anymore. I'm sorry if that sounds selfish."

"Selfish?" Nick shook his head, "You are past selfish, after everything Sara's done for you…"

"Is this what this is about?" Greg asked, astonished. "I never took her for granted, and I never meant to hurt her. If you're so worried about her then why don't you try talking to her instead of wasting your time with me? Obviously I'm too stupid to do anything about it."

He didn't give Nick a chance to answer, turning on his heel and heading down the hall. It was unfair of Nick to judge him in such a way, despite how he may have acted earlier. Was it his fault he couldn't remember anything? He was beginning to get tired of playing these games, waiting to judge emotions, waiting to see how the others would treat him. He was simply tired of everything.

* * *

Sara stormed into the garage, her arms folded angrily across her chest as she glared at the Texan, "What the hell did you do?" 

"What do you mean?" Nick asked distractedly, digging in a cabinet drawer, his back to the livid brunette.

With a loud growl of frustration, Sara threw her hands into the air, "You know what I mean, Nick, what did you to go Greg?" she spelled out to him, huffing, "He just stormed out of here angrier than I have ever seen him before. I couldn't even talk to him; he said I should talk to you about it."

Nick straightened to look at her, shrugging slightly, "We had an argument, no big deal really. If he can't handle that, than it's his own fault. After all, this wasn't the first time, and it won't be the last. All I told him was that he needs to straighten up and stop stringing everyone along. His pity act is getting old, and it's interfering with everyone's work."

"Are you crazy?" Sara cried, resisting the urge to reach over and shake the man senseless, "Do you have any idea of what he's going through? Or have you forgotten?"

Nick crossed his arms, his gaze narrowing, "The only thing I do know is what he's putting us through."

"How can you be so selfish?" Sara shouted, her hands trembling. "All you can think about is yourself, and work, and the trouble he's caused. What is wrong with you?"

Nick shook his head angrily, "No, Sara, what is wrong with you? You're _still_ defending him, after everything you two have been through. At first I thought you were just loyal, but now I'm starting to think you're just plain stupid."

The cold silence was enough to tell him that he had crossed a line, but the slap only solidified it.

* * *

The cool air was brisk, bitter tasting as he drew in a deep breath. He figured coming outside would help him calm down, but apparently he had been wrong. The longer he spent out here, the more angry he became. What right did Nick have to sit there and judge him? 

Letting out a sigh he moved further from the building, knowing that he could easily get reprimanded for leaving the grounds without signing out properly. He was still on shift, and in his case, couldn't go anywhere without supervision. Frankly he didn't care, they could fire him even, and it would only improve things. He could quit right now, and it wouldn't cause the slightest uproar. The only problem was that he was afraid to do so.

This was the only connection to his past, the only lifeline, the only possibility of triggering his memory. If he left here, than what did he have left? Nothing…

That wasn't a big step compared to what he had now. No friends, no family, no memory…he really was at rock bottom. He rubbed his head, then the back of his neck as he wandered out into the parking lot, coming to a rest against his car.

He missed Sara, but was too ashamed to ask her to move back, not after how determined he had been to get out on his own. Certainly not after all the grief Nick had given him over it either. But of course the Texan never had problems, did he?

Greg clasped his hands together, holding them against his chin as he took a few deep breaths. There was no point in getting angry, it never solved anything before, so why would it now?

"Excuse me, Mr. Sanders?"

Greg glanced up at the sound of his name, slightly taken aback by the formality. The only time his last name had been used was when he was in trouble with someone, but this wasn't the case here as a timid man came out of the shadows.

"Do I know you?"

He sounded like a broken record; new people kept on popping up in his life, and he couldn't keep track of them all. He hated sounding stupid, but it was better than trying to play a guessing game.

The man nodded towards the plastic ID tag that hung off his shirt pocket. "I read your badge when you came out…"

Greg frowned, wondering for a slight moment how the man had been able to read something so small so far away. Unless of course he had been so angry that he hadn't noticed the man when he first stormed by.

"Are you alone?"

"Does it matter?" Greg responded, crossing his arms now.

"I'm sorry," the man apologized quickly, running a hand through his blonde hair. "I just, I need to talk to someone associated with the crime lab…but I don't want to draw any attention…"

"Why is that?"

He looked around quickly, moving closer as he whispered, "I know who the killer is."

Greg frowned, studying the man before him. He was almost the same height, dressed in a light brown jacket, and a stripped shirt. "The serial everyone's talking about, I can show you…"

"You should talk with someone inside," Greg started, "I'm not authorized to do anything…"

"No," he responded sharply, before calming down. "We have to go now; we can't wait for the others. Besides, they'll just scare him off, he'll hear the sirens and everything…I just want it to stop…everyone will want it to stop."

"Exactly what do you expect me to do?" Greg questioned, curious now.

"Just come see," he pleaded. "Then you can come back here, and tell all your cop buddies who he is, where he lives…that way he'll never know who ratted him out. If I go in there, they'll have to take a report and everything…I don't want to die…do you want me to die?"

Greg swallowed, realizing what this man was asking. He knew that he should slip inside, and at least alert someone to what was going on. Then at the same time he pitied him. After all, he was just trying to be a good citizen, and what harm would it cause?

And just thinking about it, if he solved the biggest crime of the year…the others would have to treat him with respect. Nick would no longer be able to reprimand him, and he would gain favor with the higher departments. Maybe even a job change, and then he would be able to demote the Texan. Greg smiled at the idea, suddenly liking it very much.

"How long will it take?"

"Ten…fifteen minutes," the man replied, "at the most."

Greg nodded, "Alright, but let's hurry. I can get in trouble for doing this."

"Thank you," he breathed a heavenly sigh of relief. "My car's around the corner, I'll show you. You can call me Mitch by the way."

"Greg," he muttered in return, following the man down the sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder, making certain no one was following. It could cost him his job, but the rewards would be splendid in the end.

**TBC**


	27. A Final Straw

**Another quick chapter for so many wonderful reviews.** **Not sure how many more chapters are left but I'm shooting for at least 30, but possibly will be around 35. **

**Nice reviews lead to quicker chapters :D **

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**Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Final Straw**

The silence in the room was staggering, the air deadly still as the man drew in a sharp breath, his arms crossing in front of his chest. No one had quite seen him this angry…this worked up over something. And truthfully…Nick was afraid.

Sara sat next to him, quiet and unmoving. Her hands rested easily in her lap and she seemed, for the most part, unaffected by everything that was going on. How she was able to maintain such a quiet composure was beyond him.

"I could suspend the both of you right now…" Ecklie warned coldly, before turning back to them. "Forget suspension; I'll just fire you instead."

There was no response from either of them. Nick wet his lips, trying to judge the man in front of him. Was he expecting the pair to say something?

"Unfortunately we can't find replacements that quickly, can we?" Ecklie mused with a depressing sigh. "However, I can't suspend you at this point in time, not when the crime lab is involved with such a high priority case. And don't think that means you two are off the hook. Both of you should know better…fighting on the premises, let's not point out that we have members of the FBI here, let alone your own co-workers."

"We can also forget that the entire state is watching us; the media is going to go crazy if they catch wind of this. And thanks to our FBI friends they probably will. You've really put the integrity of this lab at stake. Very well done."

"I would like to take this moment to point out that I did not start this fight," Nick said coldly, ignoring the bewildered look from Sara.

"I don't care who started it," Ecklie stressed, sitting down in his chair. "I care that it happened. And you should know better," he reprimanded the Texan. "Verbally fighting is one thing, but punching, a girl, none the less!"

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't fight," Sara snapped angrily.

"You aren't helping the situation at all Sidle," Ecklie warned, frowning. "Now, since I can't fire nor suspend you two, I'm going to have my work cut out trying to figure out a reasonable punishment. Unfortunately I can't force you to work without pay, although that would have been my first option…"

"I shouldn't be punished for something that's not my fault," Nick stated firmly. "I was only defending myself."

"Like bullshit!" Sara turned to him, fury rising in her. "All of this was your fault. You were disrespectful to Greg, and to me. What the hell did you expect me to do?"

"That's enough," Ecklie started, but it was as far as he got.

"And you think I'm just going to stand there and let you beat me up?" Nick wondered, shocked now.

"I'm sorry; did I hurt your inflated ego?"

"That has nothing to do with this," Nick nearly shouted, standing up quickly. Sara followed within a quick second.

"It has everything to do with it!" she screamed, her hands balling into fists. "You've ruined everything, everything! Don't you understand that?"

She didn't wait for an answer, only storming out of the room, ignoring the warning tone in her supervisor's voice. Nick remained behind, slightly shocked as he watched her tear down the hall, not even looking back.

"Stokes!" Ecklie yelled, his voice nearly matching the fury that had been in Sara's voice. "You are this close to being fired whether or not the lab needs you. The both of you will be working together until I say so, and I do not want to hear a word out of either of you that's even slightly offensive. Do I make myself clear?"

* * *

Greg strummed his fingers absentmindedly on the side of the door, glancing out at the scenery as they drove by. He hadn't been this way before, unable to recognize any of the surroundings. That, however, wasn't the only thing starting to worry him. It had been nearly fifteen minutes now, and they were still driving. Slipping his hand inside his pocket he felt the phone that was still there. There was a steadily increasing feeling that he would be using it tonight.

"Shouldn't we be there by now?"

"We're taking a different route," Mitch replied quietly. "It'll take a little longer, but it reduces the risk of anyone seeing us."

Greg felt a chill run the length of his spine at those words. They weren't very comforting; at least not in the way he had said them. "Maybe we should stop somewhere so I can call someone," Greg offered up, taking care not to mentions his own phone. If something did happen it was safer being a secret. "At least let them know that I'm okay…"

"It won't take much longer."

"I would really feel better if we did," Greg told him, still fingering his phone.

"Don't worry about it."

"I kind of have to…I'm in the car…"

"And that was your first mistake."

Greg swallowed nervously, definitely not liking those words. "I want to get out, now."

"It's too late for that," Mitch told him, turning to look at the CSI next to him. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to go with strangers? Or did you forget?"

It was more than teasing, an unsettling mockery, as if he knew. But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? Greg bit his bottom lip, trying to figure out his next move.

"I'll jump…"

"You go ahead and do that," Mitch nodded, turning his attention up front. "We're doing fifty on the back roads, and this car can turn on a dime. And if you somehow survive through all of that you can never out run a bullet."

"You're going to kill me?" Greg wondered with rising fear.

Mitch laughed. "You wish…there are other plans for you tonight. Sit back and enjoy the ride, unless of course you prefer the trunk," he offered up, to which Greg shook his head quickly. He smiled, "I knew you were a reasonable man."

"Somebody would hear," Greg muttered, "If you tried to shoot me."

"Who?" the man wondered, "Do you see any houses out here? Any cars?"

"Buildings," Greg offered up, holding his breath. Surely he didn't have an answer to everything."

"Abandoned warehouses," he offered up. "No one comes here, not even the kids. Nearest town is ten miles away, start walking if you want."

The car was pulled to a stop, and he motioned to Greg to try and get out. For a moment Greg considered it, wondering what Mitch would try if he did. A full minute had passed, and still Greg sat still, staring at the handle that was only a few inches away.

"Smart choice," Mitch nodded, catching his attention. There wasn't much time to react as the fist came up at him, the pain jolting through his skull as he crashed against the window, and into darkness.

Mitch grimaced, flexing his sore hand as the man collapsed against the door, a thin line of blood already trickling down the clear glass. With a satisfied nod he checked the surroundings, making sure that he was the only one around before moving to get out. The second vehicle was already waiting in the shadows. Quietly he pulled the limp body from the front seat of the car, half carrying, half dragging the body to the backseat of the next, pausing only bound and gag the younger man.

Having to take the back roads only cost him time; time that he was quickly running out of. Mr. Smith would be waiting for his newest delivery, and he wasn't a patient man.

* * *

Nick let out an irritated sigh as he moved down the hallway, doing his best to keep his anger at bay. Sara had been the one to start the fight, but it was his job that was on the line, and now, to top things off, he had to apologize.

Of course, the brunette more in likely didn't want anything do with him, and if he couldn't convince her to work with him, who knew what would happen then? He hadn't seen where she had gone after her swift departure, and he wasn't about to ask anyone for help. The last thing he needed was another lecture on manners. The Texan had enough of those in the last twenty minutes to endure the rest of his life.

The locker room, it was the only place he hadn't checked yet, aside from the bathrooms. If she was in there…then well there wasn't much he couldn't do. As he expected it was empty, confirming his thoughts. Sara must be in the woman's bathroom. Of course he would only get in trouble if he ventured in there. So, in the end, he had done everything possible.

He was about to turn to leave when he heard it, the soft sniffle, and quiet sob. With a groan he stopped, turning to the corner where it came from. Nick could barely see her, her frail form on the floor. Sara's head rested on her knees, her arms covering her face. Did she even know he was there?

He let out a sigh, crossing the room, stopping only when he came to the last row of benches, taking a seat at the end. Sara had to know that he was there now, but she didn't say anything, didn't move. There was no sign that she knew, or even cared.

"Sara…"

"Go away," she snapped quietly, choking back sob. Her voice was strained, scratchy even.

Nick grimaced, taking her appearance in for the first time that night. He couldn't remember ever seeing her this weak…not when Greg was in the hospital, not even when she had left Greg…

The Texan swallowed, knowing that he had been part of this problem. He had let his own emotions interfere, and in the end, only had made things worse. He wrung his hands together nervously, before moving to the floor where he sat in front of her.

"I'm sorry…"

"No you're not," she told him bitterly, her voice muffled. "You're just trying to save your own ass."

Nick bit his lip; he deserved that. What was he supposed to say now? "I didn't mean what I said earlier…I was angry with Greg, and I took it out on you…"

"So, this is all Greg's fault then?" Sara wondered, lifting her head to look at him sternly. "Is that what you're saying?"

Nick shook his head, "No…"

"Well it's funny," she continued, cutting him off, "Because that's what it seems like you've been doing lately. Trying to find someone to blame for this mess. Newsflash Nicky, making Greg the scapegoat isn't going to solve anything!"

"I know," Nick agreed with her quietly, "I just didn't think…"

"Of course not," Sara remarked, drying her eyes. She hated feeling this week, hated it even more that she was falling apart in front of someone. "It's hard to believe I actually counted on you to understand."

It was the final straw, and she couldn't help the stream of tears that began to flow. The harder she tried to regain her composure, the harder her body was wracked with sobs. She didn't even try to fight off the arms the wrapped around her, only burying her face into his chest.

"I was so stupid," Sara whispered, "We've been through so much…I kept on telling myself that Greg would be able to beat this. Maybe it would have been better if he died that night…"

"Don't say that," Nick warned her. "You don't mean it."

She drew in a breath, trying to calm her unsteady breathing. Her throat was sore, and it hurt to talk, but she knew that unless she did she would fall apart even more. It had been to long, too long since she last talked, last trusted…

"I love him Nicky…and he can't see that. He doesn't know, he doesn't understand. I don't think I can live seeing him everyday, and knowing that I'll never have him back. What am I supposed to do? Just forget it ever happened? Move on, pretend that I never knew him?"

Nick let out a worried sigh, running a hand through her hair as he rocked her gently. He had been foolish to think that this would all blow over quickly, realizing for the first time tonight not only how much their fight had affected her, but how much she loved Greg as well. What was he supposed to tell her? Was he supposed to feed her a dish of lies, lies that even she wouldn't believe?

Gripping her tightly he replied with the only thing he could.

"I'm sorry…"

**TBC**


	28. Within the Hands

**Any mistakes are my own, wrote this without having anyone look over it. **

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**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Within the Hands**

With a stifled groan, Greg managed to open his eyes. The first thoughts that came flooding into his mind were where, and how. He could remember the how some, knowing that he should be worried, but unable to grasp the reason why. It took a moment for his head to stop spinning long enough to sort the entire situation out.

He had been kidnapped. Not only that, but he had allowed it. His head was hurting worse now, and Greg closed his eyes from the dim lamp lights above, drawing in a long breath. He could barely move his hands, a thin, yet sturdy rope wrapped around his wrists several times, safely securing his limbs in front of him. A short-lived struggle with the infuriating cords told him that he wasn't going to be free of them any time soon.

With an inward sigh he reached up, thankful for even the limited motion, and pulled the makeshift gag from his mouth. At least that had been easy. Wetting his lips he opened his eyes, glancing around the room. It was, for the most part, bare, empty of essentials, and luxuries quite the same. The wooden walls suggested the age, patches of mold spreading across the pale cream color.

Wooden beams above him supported the roof somehow. They all looked as if they would come tumbling down any moment now, barely able to hold the small swinging lamps. The concrete floor was in similar shape, long cracks running from wall to wall, the ground crumbling as small metal pipes passed through into the ground.

It wasn't until then that he noticed he wasn't flat on the ground, but on top of a bare mattress. And it was then he noted the bitter smell coming from it. Urine and feces, blood…the smell of death.

Greg closed his eyes, trying to fight off the nauseating smell. He realized dimly that the smell only became worse the longer he remained awake. He reminded himself quietly that he had been to crime scenes that were far worse smelling. One of them being a decomp, a body dump in the sewers. He had worked the case with Sara, before they had started dating. He remembered it vividly, mostly due to the amount of teasing Sara had done. It had been his first decomp after all.

The thought stilled him, the silence echoing in his head. He remembered…he remembered something that he wasn't supposed to. He closed his eyes as the thought started to drift away, barely able to pull it back. He couldn't remember the victim's name, or what the cause of death had been. Nor could he remember the taunts Sara had sent his way…but Greg could care less. He remembered.

* * *

The beam of the flashlight swept slowly over the carpeted interior, pausing as it reached the seam. She ran her gloved hand along the crease, pulling the carpet back as she looked closer. It wasn't a surprise that she didn't find anything in there. After all, she hadn't the last five times now.

Sitting back on her haunches Sara let out a soft growl, a hand running through her hair. After fighting with Nick she had taken a short break, the brunette relieved to get some coffee into her system. At this point, it was the only thing keeping her awake.

Sara wasn't quite sure yet if she forgave the Texan or not. Sure, she was still angry with, and would be for quite some time. But he had apologized profusely, and it was clear that he meant it, as opposed to being forced by Ecklie. Whatever the case she had been able to tolerate him, and even managed to quietly thank him for his support during her last breakdown.

They had already searched the car inside and out, lifting a handful of prints, and few hairs from the backseat. But there wasn't much else to go on. Sara was more than determined to find something else that would help in the investigation. Plus the fact that the longer she stayed in here, the less paperwork she would have to do. That was the last thing she wanted to do.

She was tired, unsure of the last time she had actually slept, or had a decent meal. The sad part was that she had no real place to call home. At the current moment, she resided at the Sahara, in room 103. How much longer she would stay there before deciding that she had eaten up enough of her money, Sara wasn't sure.

There was no way she could move back in with Greg. There was already enough strain between the two of them, she didn't need to add anything too it. Even more so, there was no way she would go crawling back to Nick. She knew the man would more than willingly accept her presence, but at the same time it was he who she was having problems with.

Grissom would more in likely allow her to stay, and a few years ago she would have jumped to the chance, taking the opportunity. But now…now she could no longer see what she had found enlightening in him. He was a good friend, and a wonderful person, but not a lover, not for her anyways.

Warrick, if she was willing to tolerate him, would probably allow it as well. But it wouldn't be for very long, and with Catherine, it would be even less. So in the end, it was either Nick, or the cheap hotel room, with prices that skyrocketed on the weekends, and whenever a convention rolled into town.

"I got the tox results if you're interested," Nick announced cheerfully as he came in. He was waving the folder over his head, a grin plastered on his face. She only growled in response, pushing herself up.

"That had better come with a cup of coffee," she warned, fighting off a yawn.

"Either the cheap mud in the break room, or we can step out for a moment," Nick suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

"Give first," Sara nodded towards him, pulling off her gloves.

"We got nothing."

"Nothing?" Sara raised an eyebrow. "Then why in the hell are you so happy?"

"Because," Nick responded quietly. "We got prints. Nothing in the database, but if we get a set, all we need is a comparison."

"That's…" she paused for a moment. "That's nothing…they could very well be the victim's prints."

"Already checked," Nick answered, handing the sheet to her. "The bad news…we've never lifted prints off the vial before. So it could be a copy cat."

"The last victim came in last month," Sara told him, reading over the sheet. "Why were the prints found just now….and could they eve last that long?"

"Vial was in an airtight bag, I had toxicology rerun it just in case, because a proper filing was never done. When I took it out of the bag, I happened to catch a partial. Finished dusting it, came up with that." He pointed over the picture but it was unnecessary as she had already seen it.

"So what…are we just not following protocol anymore? Not filing proper reports…no longer dusting for fingerprints?"

"Don't look at me like it's my fault," Nick warned her, "Most of Dayshift handled this stuff, not me."

"Right," Sara nodded with a small sigh, rubbing her forehead. She was beginning to feel more tired now than she had before.

A soft knock on the door caused her to look up, greeting the blonde who was peering in on them.

"Nice to see you two aren't trying to kill one another," Sofia mentioned quietly, leaning against the doorframe.

"You've heard of that," Nick commented quietly.

"Everyone has," she answered with a small smirk. "Either of you two happen to see Greg around? He was supposed to catch up with me half an hour ago."

Sara shrugged her shoulders, bending over to organize the tools she had left behind. "I'm sure he's around here somewhere. If not he may have gone home, he was upset earlier."

"I was thinking along the same lines, he's already worked over," Sofia nodded, "But his car's still out in the parking lot."

"Maybe he went for a walk," Nick suggested. "I don't think he's taken his break yet, check with Grissom. The Deli's in walking distance."

"I'll do that," she smiled, "If not I'll just have to head out the scene myself. It's no biggie."

"It's unusual for him to just walk out like that," Nick turned to Sara as she closed the case that was on the floor.

"Well, considering how you treated him," she started out, coming to a stop as the Texan held his hands up.

"Let's not start again," he pleaded. "We'll get some coffee; finish up what we have, and then head home."

* * *

Greg wasn't sure if had passed out, or fallen asleep. The next thing he did know was that he was awake, and it was an unfortunate matter. The bright light went off in his face, and he blinked rapidly, as though the motion would cause the blinding spots to go away. The man in front of him only smiled, retrieving the photo the popped out of the old camera.

He was tall, and scrawny, thinning hair that wisped about his head. Most of which was grey. His face was almost square, the only thing chubby about his whole body. Even still he had to be close to six feet, and that thought was confirmed as he stood up.

"Did he give you much trouble?"

The question was directed back at Mitch, who shook his head effortlessly, taking the wad of money from the man's hand. "One of the easiest so far Mr. Smith."

The man, presumably Mr. Smith himself, chuckled slightly, pulling from his shirt pocket a slip of paper. "This is your next assignment. I won't need her for at least a few more weeks. Follow her; make sure you learn what you can. She's trained in weaponless defense, so she may not be that easy."

"I sort of dig chicks that can kick my ass," Mitch replied with a broad smile, tucking the paper back into his own pocket along with the money. "When do you need me back here?"

"We'll take it slow with this one, I'm out of sedatives, so I'll have to make some more. Until then, he can just enjoy our hospitality."

"I know who you are," Greg took a risk in talking, unsure of how they would react. But the conversation was unnerving, and he had to at least try something. "You won't get away with this."

Mr. Smith had crouched down next to him, and even with the sparse freedom he had been given, Greg was in a perfect position to clobber the man. At the same time the warning bells went off in the back of his skull, alerting him that it more in likely would not be the best of ideas.

"I already have," he chuckled, now only inches away from his face. Greg could smell a hint of alcohol on his breath, not enough to determine that he was drunk, but enough to know that he had been drinking. "Many times over…"

To Greg's relief he pulled away, causing the CSI to sigh inwardly. The attention that had been on him previously was no longer there, giving him time to think. How long had been gone? And more importantly, did anyone notice that he was gone?

His cell phone was still in his pocket, and if he only had a brief moment alone he could use it. It certainly would be easy enough to maneuver with his hands tied as they were. At the moment, it was his only lifeline.

His head still hurt, and with an inward groan he realized that it more in likely was a concussion. With all the head wounds he had acquired in the past few years he was sure to break a record. With his eyes closed he tried to recall what he could, but it was useless.

Before, when he had first remembered, Greg had spent a better part of an hour struggling to remember what else he could. But in the end it was useless. Whatever he did remember was so small, so insignificant, he couldn't tell if it was something that had actually happened, or if had only imagined it, wanting so badly to remember.

The scenario hadn't changed much. He could pick out definite pieces in his past, but it still didn't fill in the missing story. Halfheartedly he wondered if they ever would. Then another thought had come along. If he had made it this far, then surely he could make it the rest of the way.

His attention was drawn away from his thoughts however, as Mitch knelt by him now, a white cloth in one hand. With his other hand he grabbed Greg's chin, effectively pinning down the CSI's arms with his elbow.

"What are you doing?" Greg breathed heavily, trying to pull away as the cloth was pressed against his mouth and nose, nearly cutting off his air supply. The weak smell followed shortly after as he drew in a deep breath, trying to turn his head away. It only took a few seconds before he felt himself slipping away once again, much to his own dismay.

**TBC**


	29. Longing to Breathe

**This chapter is called 'Torture Greg 101', just ignore what it says down below. To such wonderful readers and reviewers and an extra special muse that helped me pick on Greg :D**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Longing to Breathe**

She moved quietly; it was still very early in the morning, and although she would normally be comfortable being awake at this hour, she felt strangely tired. Sara knew it was from not sleeping, from her emotional breakdown. She and Nick had called a truce a short while after coming to a dead end, agreeing that they both need a good few hours of sleep.

Even in the elevator, waiting to arrive at her floor, Sara fought the dizzying feeling that constantly kept on creeping up on her. Her room was small, enough to give her a place to sleep, and wash, but comfortable enough to not worry. She stumbled into the bathroom, starting a warm bath.

Her reflection confirmed her speculation. She looked like shit. Her face was pale, with deep dark circles lining her eyes. Her hair was thinning, barely framing her now narrow face. She pressed a hand to her forehead, drawing in an unsteady breath.

It was nearly two hours later that she found herself crawling under the covers, her hair still wet from the prolonged bath. Closing her eyes she was nearly asleep as her head hit the pillow. That was when her phone went off.

Sara let out a moan that was nearly a whine as she turned her face into the soft material. Why? What did she have to do in order to get a few measly hours to herself? It went off a second time, and groggily she reached for it, answering it on the third ring.

"Hey Sara," it was Catherine, her voice soft, "how tired are you?"

Her response was a groan, as Sara buried her head further into the pillows, wishing she could just disappear.

"That tired?"

"I don't even want to move," Sara whispered, adding in an infectious groan. She heard the blonde laugh, a pitying sound.

"Alright, you go ahead and just stay there and don't move. I'll give Nick a call and see if he wants to come in."

Sara let out another groan, rolling onto her back so that she was staring at the ceiling. "He's not going to want to move either," she continued to whisper.

A sigh escaped her lips as she blinked several times, considering her options. She could very well let the Texan be called in, but at the same time she knew he had worked far many more hours.

"Give me fifteen, I'll be in…"

* * *

Did they know that he was awake?

Greg asked himself the question mentally once again, his eyes squeezed tightly shut in simple fear of them seeing the whites of his eyes. He could hear them; they were close by, in the same room still. But did they know that he was awake?

He was still fighting off the after effects of the drug induced sleep, a bitter taste in his mouth, one that he couldn't even move to wipe away. The gag was back in his mouth, and he clenched his teeth tightly over the grimy cloth, futilely wishing away the stench.

On a positive note his hands were no longer bound…at least not together. Handcuffs had secured around a metal pipe to right, nearly half an arm's length above his head. It allowed him enough slack to remain on his left side, and the ability to roll onto his back if he wished, but little more. His left hand was free, but at the current moment was tucked tightly against his chest.

Greg wondered what the odds were of the pair seeing him move. He desperately wanted the filthy rag out of his mouth, due to the simple fact that it was starting to make him sick. At first the CSI had wondered what was on it, before quickly rejecting that idea. It probably wasn't the best thing to think of at the particular moment.

"You had these imported from Japan? And no one even asked why?"

Greg drew in a patient breath, forcing himself not gag on the foul odor as he tried to concentrate on Mitch's voice. He could hear cutting…something being cut but Greg was too terrified to even open his eyes.

"If you pay enough money," Smith answered, a slight mirth to his voice, "No one asks why."

Clinking…clinking of glass, the smell of smoke…the lab explosion. Greg winced inwardly at the painful memory, the phantom sting of the burn working its way down his neck, onto his back. He shook off the feeling, opening one eye slowly. A cigarette, the smaller man, Mitch, was smoking a cigarette. Greg swallowed, closing his eyes as he tried to choke back an unwanted cough.

Too late. They had heard him; they knew that he was awake. Maybe…just maybe if he didn't respond, they would leave him alone, forget that he was there. The footsteps sounded hollow against the concrete floor, and Greg's panicked breath that turned into a chocking cough only confirmed their suspicions as they neared.

Spots danced before his tightly closed eyes as the blood rushed through his ears, his heart pounding faster and harder than it ever had before. He was waiting, waiting for something to happen, knowing that they were mere inches from his vulnerable form.

When nothing did happen he risked a glance. Maybe they had left the room, and his overactive imagination only served to differ his sub-conscious thoughts.

He was wrong again, startled to see both men watching him. Mitch let out a crooked grin, blowing a stream of smoke into his face, the thick poison nearly choking him. Greg squeezed his eyes shut once more, hacking against the now moist gag. He felt like throwing up, and the two men were only laughing at his predicament.

"You're a non-smoker," Smith mused quietly, leaning back on his haunches. He only laughed at the perplexed look the young man gave him. "You smoked once, when you were thirteen, ended up not only sick, but banned from that year's science fair since you were caught on school grounds. Never tried anything like it again."

Greg closed his eyes, trying to swallow away the rising fear. It was a mind game, he was playing a mind game, trying to scare him even more, and shamefully he had to admit it was working.

"How do I know?" the man continued, urged on by his companion with a short laugh. "I know a quite a bit about you. I like to keep my business on a personal level. I know your name and your age, your profession. I know who you work with, where you went to school. And every major event that has taken place in your life so far. You'd be surprised on how easy it is to access personal information."

Greg pressed his face into the mattress, slightly sickened by not only the smell, but the simple fact a complete stranger knew more about his life then he did. Where did this leave him, and with what?

He let out a muffled yelp as a hand seized his left wrist, pulling it away from his body. The struggle was short lived, a knife pressing against his throat courtesy of Mitch, the cigarette resting between his curved lips.

Closing his eyes once more he let out soft whimper as his arm was removed from the jacket he wore, the cool air brushing past his bare skin as his sleeve was rolled up. Greg risked a glance as something was tied around his arm, another piece of dirtied cloth much like the one in his mouth.

His breathing became more and more irregular, his heart rate quickening as Smith gave it one last vicious tug, hard enough to pinch the tender skin. Greg grimaced, turning away as he gasped for yet another quick breath. The only thing that kept him from tearing his arm away was the sharp blade that rested against his jugular vein.

"Relax," Smith chuckled warmly, as though he were talking to a small child. "This is the easy part."

The cotton was cold against his skin, moist as the man prepped his skin. It was little more than a pinprick, but still Greg drew in a sharp breath as the syringe filled with blood…his blood.

The needle was removed, as well as the makeshift tourniquet. With a satisfied sigh Smith handed the rag to Mitch with a nod, moving to his feet. Greg had little time to react, or prepare as the man used his free hand, pressing the filthy rag over the new wound and apply pressure. Although Greg was not a doctor he could only assume that the lack of sterility wasn't helping much. But then again, would it really matter in the end?

**TBC**


	30. Time and Time Again

**Chapter without my beta, so all mistakes are mine. This chapter is for her as well, hope you're feeling okay:D **

**To everyone else, thanks for your numerous, wondrous reviews. You inspire me to write chapters quicker. If I get more I may be inspired to write the next part tomorrow…:D No, I'm not bribing, but hey, it's worth a shot, right?**

* * *

**Chapter 30: Time and Time Again**

After much indecision Sara finally decided on calling a cab. It would do her little good to attempt to drive in considering the state she was in, on how tired she was. She couldn't complain, wanted to, but wasn't able to do so. Everyone was working over, meaning that everyone was just as tired.

She brushed her hair back, still damp from washing it earlier; obviously she hadn't taken the time to dry it. A couple of seconds in brushing it, and she felt more than satisfied with how she looked. Sara was surprised, and somewhat startled as Catherine fell into step next to her. "I expected you to be inside," she muttered briefly, fighting off a yawn.

"Break," the blonde explained briefly. "You're running with Warrick, body dump near the Palms."

"New case?" Sara sounded surprised, and she had reason to be. When the call first came in she had suspected it to be in relation to the current case. Now to be thrown off on something completely different seemed almost unfair.

Catherine nodded, "I get to push paperwork, so consider yourself lucky."

"Is he already there?"

"Waiting on you," the blonde prompted her, continuing on even though the brunette had come to a stop.

"Greg's still here?" Sara wondered absentmindedly, her eyes still focused on the small silver car that was his. She turned her head, catching Catherine's gaze as the woman came to a stop.

"No one's heard from him for hours now, don't know where he is."

Sara blinked, watching her. "And this concerns…no one?"

Catherine sighed, frowning some as she tilted her head. "He's pulled this disappearing act before Sara, it's nothing new. Greg's a big kid; he can take care of himself. Especially concerning the fight he had with Nick, he probably went to blow off some steam."

"You know about that?" she asked.

Catherine only smiled, "Everyone knows about it. Everyone also knows about the fight you and Nick had too…in short, everyone knows everything that goes on here."

"Oh good," Sara rolled her eyes as she followed the other woman inside the building. "And to think that I was worried my personal life was going to stay off the record."

* * *

He was exhausted, but to anxious to try and sleep. On his back now Greg drew in calm breaths, doing his best to squash down the ever rising fear. Both of the men had left him alone shortly after drawing his blood, now occupied with something else in the corner. He couldn't really see what they were doing, but that alone wasn't effective in helping him to keep calm.

With a silent breath Greg pressed the palm of his free hand against his forehead, keeping his eyes closed, trying to work the scenario out in his mind. Fifteen minutes since he left the lab…well, fifteen minutes that he was conscious for. How much longer after that had it been? Greg knew he had been here for at least an hour, possibly two. Of which he remembered that was. Once again, who knew how much longer he had spent unconscious in the hands of these criminals?

He groaned as a drop of water hit him in the face, prompting him to open his eyes in confusion. Another few drops had hit him before he realized that it was raining outside…and if he was getting wet that meant there had to be…

A window. If you could even call it that. The small rectangular gap was nearly four feet above his head, within reaching distance for sure. Greg wondered for a moment if it was meant to be there, or if the building itself was so old it was starting to fall apart. Of course, any chances of a possible escape were dampened by the simple fact he could barely fit a closed fist through it, let alone his entire body.

He turned his head to the side, relishing in the feel of the cold drops against his flesh, running his tongue along his upper lip to catch a stray drop. After all, who knew when and if he would ever taste something as sweet again?

When…not if, when. Greg drew in a breath, reminding himself sternly of that one, single point. He had to remain positive. But it was hard, considering he knew what was going to happen. It was a poor time for that memory to come back, but it could work to his advantage. The picture was first, and they had already drawn his blood. Gifts for the crime lab no doubt. They would be mailed in a plain manila envelope, and would contain all of the information the crime lab already knew.

Greg wondered briefly what their reactions would be when they learned he had become the latest victim. Regret, fear…worry? Or the most likely of conclusions, relief, especially concerning his attitude as of late. It would be a miracle if anyone did care. He had been a jerk, had disregarded their feelings, only taking in his own personal accounts. With dull realization Greg realized that Nick had been right. He had been right about everything.

"You think it's ready?"

Mitch's question caught Greg's attention, causing the CSI to glance quickly their way. The two were still seated on the dirty floor, that alone not being a surprise considering how many other dirty things were around the abandoned building. He blinked a few times, watching as the stood, Smith holding another syringe in his hand. At first it appeared empty, but it was only then Greg noticed it was filled with a thick, yet nearly transparent fluid. He took a deep breath, turning his head away as they approached. Greg's only guess was some sort of toxin, that alone would confirm their beliefs of a sedative being used on all the victims, the sole reason of little to no defensive wounds found.

He resisted this time, fighting back as his wrist was grabbed roughly. Even after the steel blade of the knife was pressed to his throat he didn't give in. It wasn't until the first cut into his sensitive skin that he gave in, tears brimming in his eyes as realized that he had lost. The pinprick seemed sharper this time, but it could only have been his imagination as the unknown fluid was administered into his system. It wasn't so much the poison he feared, for he already knew that it wasn't the cause of death.

He gritted his teeth as the needle was withdrawn, the same procedure as before taking place. Instinctively he curled his fingers into a fist, holding them their tightly. He knew what was to follow; all the other victims had their fingers severed a day prior to their death. Time, was running out.

* * *

Sara raised an eyebrow as she approached the other man, kit held in her hand. Warrick just continued to shake his head, smiling at her as he pulled a pair of gloves on. "I thought you were sleeping," he teased, crouching over as he opened his case.

"I think I might be," she confessed, stopping when she reached him. "Catherine said you were waiting for me at the lab. I spent forty minutes trying to track you down. You just simply refuse to answer your phone, don't you?"

Warrick laughed, grinning up at her as he pulled a container of fingerprint powder out. "I've been ignoring it yes. I'm afraid if I answer it Ecklie's going to put me on a new case. And I've spent all this time driving out here too."

"I took a cab, and trust me," she muttered quietly, "You don't want to know how much it cost. Traffic is horrible."

"I drove it Sara," he nodded, whispering quietly, "I know."

"What do we have?"

"Young female, early twenties. She's been here for a while. At least a week."

"A decomposer?" Sara frowned, scowling some. No wonder Catherine had been so eager on trading her for paperwork. "That sounds like fun."

"You want the perimeter or the body?"

She blinked, then smiled up at him. "You know what, you can take the body."

"Did I even have to ask?" Warrick wondered briefly, setting the powder back in the case. He had hoped it would be a good indicator to Sara that he wanted the perimeter, but he wouldn't complain seeing that Sara had, after all, come out to the scene.

**TBC**


	31. Choices

**My wonderful beta is enjoying herself on vacation, so all mistakes are mine. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, you guys rock! Sorry for taking so long in updating this, last week was rather hectic. This next week is busy as well, so I can't promise on any updates, but I will try.**

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**Chapter Thirty-One: Choices**

He couldn't swallow. Greg made the silent notation, knowing that it did not help his current situation. What made it worse was the simple fact he couldn't breathe either. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, at a much quicker rate than it should, and his breaths were short, a weak gasping attempt with each rise and fall of his chest.

He closed his eyes, trying to will his body to accept what was being done to him. The pain though, the pain he could live without. An uneasy ache had settled into his limbs, working its way down his back, over his chest. It made it even harder to breathe. The slight fever that had across his body didn't help matters either.

"How much longer is this going to take?"

Greg cracked an eye open, watching the younger man pace back and forth, his arms crossed in obvious irritation. Mitch scowled at him, turning away and staring back at Smith who sat in an old run down chair, sipping leisurely on a glass of lemonade.

"As much time as it takes," he answered simply, placing the glass on the floor. "These procedures are difficult. You know that."

"Yes," he grumbled, "But it's never taken this long before. Why can't we just cut him now?"

Greg winced, turning his head away at these words. He knew that it was coming, only serving to heighten his fear, but deep inside he had been in denial. Things would be so much better if they just killed him now and got it over with.

"When he's still moving around?" Smith laughed, taking another drink.

"Maybe it's a faulty batch; you should give him another dose."

"And risk killing him?" Smith offered up. "You have any idea how potent this stuff is? How long it takes to work its way out of a person's system? Even diluted it's powerful; I won't risk killing him, and having the police able to track the toxin down. It's too risky."

"I just can't wait here forever," Mitch grumbled, turning to look at the captive man. "He can barely move now, we can take care of it easily, and then I can be on my way."

"You're so impatient," Smith grumbled, moving to his feet. "Just keep in mind who pays you."

"I'll worry about the money later," Mitch snorted, his arms crossed. "I have other things on my agenda."

Greg winced at the sound of knife being drawn, shaking his head in slight protest as the two men neared him. His hands had been tapped together shortly after the toxin was injected, leaving him on his back, his one hand still cuffed to the pipe above.

Cutting through the tape was easy, and Greg drew in a panicked breath as his arm was laid flat against the mattress, his wrist at the edge so that his hand hung in open air. He tried to curl his fingers, but Smith was reluctant in having him fight back, Mitch grabbing onto his wrist to help the older man.

The concrete was cold against the back of his hand as it was pressed into the ground, his index finger being straighten as the knife was brought down. He let out a cry, biting down into his gag as the blade slid over his skin lightly, cutting sparsely into his flesh. With one last, short cry, Greg tightened his grip, pulling back at the same time.

It must have caught them off guard, neither of the men expecting such strength from the CSI; but the fear, combined with the rush of adrenaline, had been enough for Greg. His fingers tightened around the blade, wincing as it cut into his hand, but even still he refused to relent.

Smith had been surprised to find knife slip out of his grasp, reaching over quickly to wrap his own fingers around Greg's, cursing as blade cut him instead. The jarring motion that followed afterwards caused the knife to fall to the floor with a clatter, and Mitch was quick in reaching for it. Greg, however was closer.

By the time Mitch was closing his hand around the fallen item, Greg had grasped the hilt, pulling it from underneath the man's fingers. Mitch let out a curse, pulling back as he held his now bleeding hand, and with another yell dealt a sharp kick to his midsection.

Greg let out a cry, dropping the knife as he attempted to curl in on himself as several more blows followed. He could barely breathe as it was, and this certainly wasn't helping. He didn't even hear as Smith called the man off, but he was aware of when the assault came to an end.

"The bastard cut me," Mitch growled, flexing his hand as he paced around in a circle. Greg covered his head with his now freed hand as the man stopped in front of him, ready to deliver yet another kick.

"He cut me too," Smith pointed out, carefully wrapping the gash with a piece of cloth. "I told you it was too early. Go clean yourself up, we'll try again later."

"I don't have time for later," Mitch scoffed, wincing as the other man pressed a cloth into his hand.

Greg coughed as he blinked, trying to slow his racing heart as he glanced around the room. The pair now was in a heated argument, neither of them paying any attention to the bleeding man on the ground. Greg's eyes came to rest on the knife that was only a few feet away from the mattress, within his reach. It wouldn't do him much good, but if he could maybe hide it…maybe stall them.

His eyes darted back up to where the small gap in the wall was. It wasn't wide enough for his hand, no…but a knife, a small dagger to be exact…

With a breath he reached out, stretching his arm as he ignored the pain, blood dripping from his hand onto the floor. The tips of his fingers brushed against the steel blade, and with a silent cry he willed himself to reach just a bit further. It took a few tries, and several glances in between to make sure the arguing men were not watching him.

Greg let out a smile despite himself as his fingers finally closed around the knife, drawing the weapon near him. With a few deep breaths his eyes shifted, now looking at his next target. He could reach it easily enough when standing, just standing alone would be difficult. If he could hardly move now, how could his legs support him?

He glanced at the two again, neither of them noticing his motions. Mitch was pacing back and forth, pointing fingers at Smith even as the older man was shouting back. The noise level was deafening, and Greg knew that they wouldn't be able to hear him even if they had wanted to.

The pipe would be able to support him, Greg noted with satisfaction, closing his good hand around the old metal. Lifting himself up wasn't going to be enough, and his legs were weak in responded, but somehow he managed to move his body onto his knees, still firmly clutching the knife in his grasp. He only had to go a little further…

With another series of breaths Greg willed his legs to push him up, holding onto the pipe in a death grip as he reached up with the other hand, the blade of the knife sliding through easily enough, followed by the hilt as Greg clumsily pushed it through the opening. With a sigh he allowed his body to collapse back onto the mattress, turning his gaze to where the men were still arguing. He was fearful of what the consequences would be when they learned of what had transpired, but at the moment he couldn't care less. He had beaten them, he had won…at least for now.

* * *

Sara rubbed her eyes as she dialed the number again, counting the number of rings before voicemail picked up. It was the fourth time within the last half hour now, and she was getting worried.

"Greg…its Sara…" she started off quietly, holding back a sigh. "I know that you're probably tired of hearing your phone go off…you should try answering it, just long enough to let me know you're okay, where you are…"

With a smile she sat back in the chair, her fingers drumming on the tabletop. "Okay, so you don't have to tell me where you are, seeing that you probably don't want to talk with anyone right now. But at the very least let me know you're okay. Nick's sorry, and so am I. We just want you to come home. Please think about it, and give me call…"

She waited a moment longer, as though she expected him to pick up, before ending the call with a resounding sigh. Life wasn't fair sometimes, she couldn't make Greg want or do anything. Maybe should could have, with the old Greg, but not with the man who had taken his place. She set her phone on the table, leaning over to watch, somehow trying to silently convince him to call.

"Nothing from Greg yet?" Warrick asked in form of a greeting as he entered the room. He studied the brunette lightly, before pulling his lunch from the small fridge, taking a seat across from her.

Sara shook her sadly, looking up at with a sigh. "No…I'm getting worried, we should sent someone out after him. Send out an alert, have Brass check the local bars, taverns…somewhere that he would go if he was depressed, upset…"

"I'm sure he's fine Sara," Warrick told her, taking a bite out of his sandwich. He had to admit himself that he was getting worried, but it would do no good to scare the already wound up brunette. "He'll come back around, and pretend that nothing's ever happened."

She nodded dully, staring up at the ceiling as he talked. Sara knew that he was offering comfort, but for some reason she found herself unable to confide in them. Part of her felt as though she was letting Greg down if she went on, pretending that everything was fine. Another part warned her that it was time to let go, that she had hung on for too long.

"Do you still have nightmares?"

She blinked, looking up at the other man. "What?"

"Do you still have nightmares?" Warrick repeated himself, "about Greg…"

Biting her lip she turned away, but nodded after a brief moment of silence. "Sometimes…they're not as bad as they've been, or as frequent. But yeah…I still do every now and then."

She gave him a smile, seeing the worry on his face, "Don't worry, I'm handling it."

"If you ever need to talk…" he offered up, coming to a stop when she nodded.

"I know who to go to."

* * *

"What do you mean you can't find it?"

Smith was angry…no, he was far beyond that. Even Mitch seemed a bit timid, but the younger man wasn't going to back down that easily. "It means that it's not out there. I've looked everywhere."

"Things just don't disappear," Smith reminded him coldly, "We need to find it, and now!"

"It may have been picked up," Mitch told him, dropping his voice into a whisper.

Greg closed his eyes, trying to fight off the pounding headache. He felt as though he was dying, and at the moment would gladly embrace it. Things had taken a turn for worse when the found the knife was gone, drilling him first before bluntly trying to beat it out of him. Greg hadn't been able to say anything even if he had wanted, the pain griping tightly at his throat.

Now…now he couldn't even move, his entire body ached, burning with a slight fever that seemed to be climbing ever more. Greg could only hope that if he was dying, that it would happen quickly. Anything to take him away from this dreadful place.

He could feel his phone vibrate in his pocket, resting against his skin, tickling each time it did ring. Someone was trying to get a hold of him, maybe they were even looking…but that was a long shot. It took at least twenty four hours before a missing person's report was filled, unless circumstances said otherwise. Since no one saw him even leave, combined with the fact that he had been too stupid to seek out proper help, there was little to no chance the crime lab would jump the report.

It didn't help matters that he had left the lab angry. Greg let out a groan as he shifted his position, trying to ease some of the weight off his extended arm. With the position it was in, blood flow had been reduced, causing the limb to go slightly numb. At this point it only slightly hurt, but was little match to rest of his body.

"What do you mean some kids could have taken off with it!" Smith snapped, nearly screaming. It was enough to draw Greg's attention, and he opened his eyes dully.

"Not my fault," Mitch took a step back as he protested, "You're the one who said no one comes around here!"

"Damn you," Smith spat, growling as he turned around. "What do you think is going to happen if they turn it in?"

"We have to finish him off now then," Mitch convinced him quietly, turning to look at Greg who was still listening wearily. "Hide his body, clean the place up, and get out of here. Before the cops are onto us."

Smith let out a sigh, chewing on his lower lip as he watched the CSI close his eyes. Behind him Mitch took another step closer, lowering his voice. "It's the only way."

Smith looked at him quietly, before turning back to Greg. "You have your gun?"

**TBC**


	32. Leaping Ahead

**Chapter Thirty-Two: Leaping Ahead**

Grissom let out a patient sigh, shifting in his spot as he asked the question once again. "Where did you find the knife?"

"I didn't find it," the teen girl replied causally, biting on one of her nails as her eyes drifted upward. "My sister did."

"The six year old?" Grissom wondered briefly, only to be cut off by the teen.

"She does have a name, its Mari, try using it for once."

"Alyssa," he drew in a breath, trying to figure out a way to phrase his question without seeming… callous. "Mari found a knife with blood evidence on it, and we're assuming it might be connected to a rather large case, but without your confirmation of where she picked up it, it's not going to help us."

"That's not my job," Alyssa pointed out smugly, sinking back into her chair. It was clear that she was at the peak of her adolescent stage; he could tell by the way she dressed, the black clothes, heavy make-up, a possible sign that she felt insecure about herself. The way she held herself, the way she spoke of her mother when she first came in suggested the rebellious course had gone of for some time.

"Are you afraid of getting in trouble?" Grissom wondered then, smiling when he saw that it had struck a cord.

"FYI," she spat angrily, "I don't get in trouble, I'm 17."

"But you still live at home," Grissom nodded simply, "And you dropped out of school, you're ineligible for college, and you're having trouble finding a job. That doesn't leave you much freedom, does it?"

"I'm not stupid," she countered uncomfortably; "School just isn't my thing. I can work, but no one will give me the chance."

"Whatever the case, you still live under your mother. And if she doesn't ground you at all, then why are you so afraid to tell me where you and your sister were? Unless you were doing something illegal…"

"We were visiting our dad," Alyssa cut him off. "Mom doesn't know; she and my dad don't get along very well, they haven't for years. She took him to court, to try and get a restraining order against him, so we couldn't see him anymore."

"And when she didn't win?"

"She wouldn't let me see him," she said with a sigh. "Mari was too young to know the difference. I tell mom that I'm going out to hang with some friends, or that I'm taking Mari to the movies, and we go visit for a while. I don't want my sister to grow up not knowing who her father is."

"You feel pretty strongly about this then," Grissom mused, watching her.

"Like I said, I'm not stupid. My father's made some mistakes, but he's not a bad person. Everyone deserves another chance, right?"

Grissom nodded, impressed, "Right…so tell me where you two were."

Chewing on her bottom lip she glanced up at the man, "Will it really help your investigation?"

"It could."

* * *

Mia had seemed nervous. Yet at that time he wasn't paying much attention, Grissom focusing more on what the teenage daughter had to say. But as she collected the results, sorting through several files he could see how hesitant she was, how tentatively she moved.

"What's wrong?"

"The results came back," Mia nodded towards him, opening the file with a silent breath.

"And?" Grissom encouraged her to continue. With a deep breath the lab tech began.

"Three results. The first one is unknown," she handed the paper to him, and Grissom glanced over the results briefly.

"Second DNA matched with a Mitch Anderson. He was in the system for several petty thefts and impersonations…the third profile matches with Greg."

Grissom took the paper quickly, reading over the confirmed results. "Our Greg?"

Mia nodded slowly, frowning. "What other Greg is there?" she wondered quietly.

"Are you sure about this?"

She was quick to nod once again. "Ran it twice to confirm…you don't think?"

"Could be nothing," Grissom cut her off. He too knew that it was an undeniable coincidence, but at the same time he had to hope.

"The tox results came back as well," she started, already pulling out the files.

"Why do you have them?" Grissom had asked with a frown, already holding his hand out.

For a moment she hesitated, but handed them over. "Tox kicked them back over here, I'm not sure entirely why, but since you were on your way I decided to hold onto them."

"Elevated levels of glucose," she nodded towards him, "As well as an unidentified toxin."

"More than elevated," Grissom mused. "These levels are off the chart."

"What do you think it means?"

Grissom glanced at her before shaking his head. "I'm not exactly sure for now. Go ahead and try to isolate the blood profiles and get them back over to tox. This is priority; you do nothing else until this is finished. I want the results asap."

Mia nodded, already moving to work. It wasn't needed for the man to tell her to keep quiet about her finds. Word would work its way around the lab itself if the evidence was indeed telling them what he assumed it was. Grissom was praying that he was wrong for once.

Turning around the corner he came to a stop as Nick approached him, holding out the small manila envelope.

"PD found just outside the crime lab, near the front door. No label, no eyewitness, out of the range of the cameras. It's the same type of packaging our killer's been using."

"When was the last time you saw Greg?" Grissom asked bluntly instead, reaching out for the package shortly after pulling on a glove.

Nick handed it over willingly, trying to think it over. "Last night, towards the beginning of shift….eighteen hours? Maybe more?" he guessed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Grissom didn't answer, his expression grim. "The knife that was brought in was found around the warehouse behind the old theater…"

Nick nodded quickly, "I know where that is. I'll get a warrant. Did we get any leads off of it?"

For a moment Grissom thought about telling him, but decided against. Nick needed a clear head when searching the area, and it wouldn't do good to bog down the investigator with such worries. "Make sure the warrant covers all the buildings, take someone with you. If you find anything, give me a call."

Nick however, wouldn't have it that easy. He proceeded to follow his supervisor clear to the layout room, closing to door behind him once inside. "Something's up," he stated, taking a seat without invitation.

Grissom nodded, but didn't answer as he placed the envelope down on the table. Instead he tried to throw the Texan off the subject. "It would be helpful if you get started on that warrant. It could be a breakthrough in our case."

"What aren't you telling me?" Obviously his tactic wasn't working, and Grissom went on to carefully opening the package. If words couldn't tell him, then the contents inside certainly would. Even more so if they were as he feared.

Without word Nick had moved up out of his chair, watching over his shoulder as he first pulled free the vial of blood, followed by the picture. For a moment the studied the picture in silence, the both facing the cold hard reality of the situation. The killer had gotten one of their own, right out from under their noses. And no one had even noticed.

With a sigh the Texan asked the one question Grissom was regretting to hear. "Does Sara know?"

* * *

The entire ride had been filled with silence. Nick had opted for the odd comfort in opposition of turning the radio on. He was, at this moment in time, quite alone, expecting to meet up with several dayshift employees at the scene. Everyone else was busy; Nick wouldn't have in any other way.

Dayshift knew Greg…yes, but not in the sense he and the other did…or at least used to. Whatever the case would be, Nick knew it would hit close to home for some, namely Sara. He knew the brunette would still be working with Warrick, then most likely on her way home to sleep. That would give him enough time to figure out a way to break it to her gently.

Out of everyone, she would take it the hardest. And that thought scared him. Scared him because he wasn't sure how much longer she could last until she reached her breaking point. So far she had been strong, resilient; stumbling only a few given times only to fight her way back to her feet. What would happen now, when the one thing she truly loved in her life was taken away?

He pulled up to a stop in front of the listed address, nodding as he moved out of his vehicle to others that were waiting. They were all interns, trainees, more or less. At the very least they were lower in rank than he was. That meant he had the run of things, which in most cases he would normally enjoy. Just now…now he wished that he could be the trainee, be the one who wasn't emotionally attached.

Yes he had been foul to Greg lately, most of it fueled by the younger man unintentionally. After all Greg couldn't control his emotions and Nick knew that if he was in a similar position that he would be just as unruly. He still considered Greg a friend, and it hurt him to know that after all Greg had gone through, that he had to be subjected to such hell from a ruthless killer.

"Primary sweeps of the two farthest buildings," Nick pointed to the first pair that had gathered around him, two young males in their early twenties. He had seen them but a few times, and there was no real possible way of remembering their names, especially giving the current circumstances.

He gave the next two neighboring warehouses to another small group, before snatching a rookie for himself for the first building closest to the road. They would work their way backwards, communicating via phones whenever they found anything. It was such a small lead, but Nick was hopeful.

After chasing this case for nearly a year they were getting close. Close to putting it away forever. The FBI could then leave, and the city could rest assured that a deadly killer was locked away. Things could then get back to normal. As normal as they would ever get, that was.

Things had never been normal since the accident. Not only were the hours rough, but it was draining Nick emotionally to watch the others suffer. Greg had always been detached, and Sara chased after false hopes, all the while dodging hidden demons. He had always been mindful of the pair; Sara and Greg had shared something special, something that Nick had never seen, but had known well enough to pay his respect to. He could only hope that he would find that balance with someone himself one day.

Then the sudden, nauseating thought him a moment later, as he was walking through the wet grass to the visible door. What if he did find someone? Someone as special as Greg was to Sara, only to loose them? It was then he felt regrettably sorry for ever questioning Sara's motives. It wasn't a wonder why she had held on so long.

The musty odor hit him first as he stepped inside, flashlight already drawn as he made his way in carefully. He had taken this building purposely, because Grissom had noted it from the witness' statement. If they were going to find anything, then this would be the place.

The railing was starting to give away as he worked his way upstairs, the rookie behind him following at a close distance. The building itself was only two stories, and most of it was already closed off. When reaching the second level Nick's suspicions of someone living there were confirmed.

A worn down bed, and old chair, a small radio. Maybe not enough to convince him someone was living there, but on the other hand this stuff did not just wander in on its own. The light, however, coming from the next room concerned him, and he drew his own firearm as he approached, pushing the door open slowly. Nick knew the risks he was taking, but let out a breath when seeing the scene before him. After checking the area to make sure the coast was indeed clear, he stepped into the room, pulling out his cell phone as he did so. He felt more than sick now, wishing he hadn't been the one to go.

Pushing a single button he brought the phone up to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up. "Yeah Griss, its Nick. We have a 419."

**TBC**


	33. What You Don’t Know

**Chapter Thirty-Three: What You Don't Know**

Nick was slow in crouching down next to the man, keeping his distance as David worked over the body. The Texan knew that he would later be reprimanded of entering a scene that had yet to be cleared, but at this point in time he could care less. His main concern of course was Greg…the simple thought that his friend had been here perhaps only hours before, bound and gagged, tortured nonetheless sickened him.

"Do we have an ID?" he asked quietly, watching as David finally managed to work the wallet out.

"Mitch Anderson," David nodded to him, handing the wallet over. "Late twenties. He's been dead about eight hours, according to the liver temp."

Nick read it over with a sigh. The last thing you ever wanted to find was another db in a case. What was even worse was the fact he knew the victim. Not personally no, but Nick had interviewed him less than four days prior in suspicions of involvement with this very case. He hadn't recognized him at first, courtesy of the disfiguration the blast had caused.

"Safe to say that the bullet through his head is the COD?"

David nodded, but only mildly. "For now, we'll know more when we get back to the lab."

Satisfied now Nick moved back to his feet, doing a quick walk through of the room. There was only one other CSI with him, the others were still scoping out the other building. Nick could just as easily call someone else in for more help, but part of him wanted to be the one collecting the evidence. It was unsure of when Greg could have last been in here, but the Texan had a strong feeling that he had indeed.

The mattress that was on the floor in the corner was old, worn down, and reeking of filth. Kneeling next to it he drew in a sharp breath, coughing at the smell. There were blood patterns, droplets that led over the dirty fabric, onto the ground. They were fresh, at least fresher than any of the other bodily fluids that covered the area.

A few quick photos, and Nick collected several swabs; it wouldn't hurt to take more evidence than was necessary. When it came to one of their own there never was a limit. He took a second look at the mattress, hardly answering as Catherine had come up behind him. He knew she had been on her way.

"Victims were here," he said quietly. "Restrained somehow…" he reached over, picking up the length of cloth that had been cut free.

"Bag it," she told him, "I'll have Mia run it for epithelials."

"How are you handling things?"

He wanted reassurance, comfort in knowing he wasn't the only one, but her answer surprised him. "Just another case," she told him.

"It doesn't bother you?" he asked bitterly.

"I never said that," she shot down the accusation. "We all care about Greg Nicky, but if we get personal it's going to interfere with our job. Keep your distance, concentrate, let's find him."

Nick nodded, knowing that he had drifted too far away from the task at hand. He had been making this personal since he first learned of Greg's predicament. At the same time, how could he not?

Nick regretted his reactions towards the younger man. If he hadn't of been so stubborn, if only he had swallowed his pride and worked along with him, maybe, just maybe they wouldn't be here right now, wasting away on false hopes for their fallen friend.

He moved to his feet once more, shortly after snapping a few more photos. There wasn't much more to look at in the room, it was in itself more-or-less bare. A couple of chairs in the corner, busy being dusted for fingerprints. A small end table.

It was there he came to a rest, dusting the top for finger prints, coming up with nothing but smudges and partials. He was able to get a fairly decent print off the handle of the drawer, photographing and lifting it before opening the small compartment.

Inside sat a small black notebook, and he took another photo before lifting it out, laying it flat on the top. Nick only grew more worried as he opened it, shuffling through the pages, unable to believe what he was looking it.

The contents had also caught Catherine's attention, the blonde coming over to gaze over his shoulder as he flipped through another page. He heard her sigh bitterly, knowing that he could very well match the tone as well.

"He's been tracking Greg for a long time," she remarked sadly, briefly reading all the headlines of news clippings that were pasted on the sheets. Some of the dates were old; old by several years, dating clear back to before his promotion even. It was daunting news, knowing that this entire plan had been in effect for years. It would, however, explain why the killer had been able to move so quickly.

"Not just Greg," Nick cut in, briefly letting go of his thoughts. "All the victims. Several years of being followed…" he turned another page, catching his breath. "Where they lived, where they worked, where they went to school. Friend's houses…" Nick shook his head.

He grew quiet as his gaze fell on the next page, hardly daring to speak as he reread the headlines, trying to see if his eyes were actually seeing what he thought they were. Catherine's short breath behind him confirmed that they were. His fingers rested on the page, his voice tight, and quiet as he spoke.

"Call Grissom."

* * *

Everything had changed within a moment's notice. She and Warrick were working the scene, nearly done processing now. The next she was being escorted into a police car, and taken back to the lab with firm instructions not to leave. It was then she learned of what was going on.

Her first reaction was shock, followed quickly by the haunting despair. All her dreams, her nightmares; they had come true. She didn't care much what the evidence suggested, that she was the next victim, or should be, in accordance with the well kept log the suspect had.

Sara wanted to be alone. She wanted to go home, but unable to do either she sat herself down in the break room, and waited. The others fussed over her, after her, but she ignored most of it. It didn't matter, not now at least. She could hear the others talking, the things that they were saying, but she wouldn't buy into any of it.

That was where Nick had found her; now back from the primary crime scene. He took a seat next to her without a word, grasped her hand tightly, and after a few daunting moments of silent, he apologized.

"You didn't do anything," she muttered quietly, but continued to hold onto his hand as though it was her only lifeline. "Some things are just meant to be."

"Sara…" Nick drew in a breath; wonder if he should go with false hopes, contemplating how much support he should give her. "We'll find him."

She nodded firmly then, much to his surprise. He had expected some sort of argument, had been prepared for one actually. "Of course you will," her voice was quiet, "you'll find him in some dumpster in a back alley…"

That was not exactly what he had in mind. Even as he started to speak up Sara cut him off. "I don't want to know when you find him. I don't want to see him….just let me know when the funeral is, I'll be there."

She left after that, Nick having no choice but to watch her go. His plan of action had failed, he of all people wanted to give her hope, reassurance. But it was as clear in her mind as everyone else's. To them, Greg was already dead. With or without a body.

Things hadn't lightened up however, when the articles came across about Sara. There were two other victims as well, both of which that had been notified, the police already on their way to give them some sorts of protection. It was highly unlikely the guy would strike with the police so quick behind now, but precautions were never taken lightly.

With a sigh he moved to his feet, down the hall to Grissom's office, knocking gently on the already open door. His supervisor was moving books and files around his office, nodding at the Texan to come on in.

"We got several good prints, we're running them now. Some fresh blood samples, Catherine's bringing in the mattress and we'll process that really well, see if we can pull anything else off of it."

"Good," Grissom nodded, finally taking a seat at his desk. "Sara is still here?"

Nick nodded, though he wasn't sure of the exact location. "What are we going to do? We just can't keep her locked up here for the rest of her life."

"FBI is going to try to bait him in. They're going over the records you pulled to figure out when and where he might be shooting for," Grissom stated quietly, surprising the other man.

"They're going to use Sara as bait?" he sat down quickly, unable to believe any of it. Sara had done something similar before, but that was a different situation. Then their killer was only attracted by a type, in this case, he was after Sara himself. Was that the smartest choice then?

"Ultimately it's up to her," Grissom responded, "They can't force her to, but in this case it might be best for everyone."

"How's that?" Nick asked heatedly. They had already lost one person, why then was the man so willing to offer up another life?

"The bastard's already after Sara. I'd rather have him walk in our trap than us to fall into his."

Nick bit back his next comment. Grissom was right, to some extent, but still, it was unfair. There was no more argument after that. What was done was done, and there was still plenty more to do. He got up with an inward sigh, pausing near the door.

"What are the chances of finding Greg?"

Grissom gave him a firm look, frowning as he did so. "Alive?"

Nick nodded, "Preferably."

No response. Nick wasn't expecting one, and he nodded in understanding. "I know, stupid question."

"Follow the evidence Nick," Grissom reminded him. "Not your feelings."

With a relenting sigh he left, the reality of the situation finally sinking in, but with renewed force. Greg might be gone, but there was no way in Hell that they would be taking Sara as well.

**TBC**


	34. Answers

**A little bit of confusion at first, but hopefully not too much. Shorter chapter, but hoping to have another quick update. **

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Answers**

The wind was cold, suiting well with her icy tears as she walked down the street. She was alone, visually, but Sara knew that she well surrounded. Did the Killer know that? What were the odds of him even being here at all?

--

He hadn't wanted to be here. He had wanted to go. But it wasn't his job, wasn't his place, and according to the FBI, not his concern. Right, the safety of his best friend wasn't his concern. Since when?

--

_It was hot, muggy; harder to breathe than ever before. Each gasping breath was reminder that it could very well be his last. He was locked away in darkness, barely able to move, unable to produce more than a muffled sound. Part of him knew he was dying, but another part was simply unwilling to give into that fact. He wouldn't surrender; he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a win. He wasn't going to go without a fight. _

--

She hadn't agreed to this, not outright at least. But in the end, what choice did she have? She just couldn't say no. As high priority of a case as this was...there was no way anyone would let her feelings interfere. She had to go along, but why now, why here?

--

Greg was gone, Sara was being used as bait, and he had to sit here and pretend to be somewhat interested in a pile of old clippings. What did it matter now? All these people were either dead or well protected. What clues could they possible find in yesterday's news?

--

_The pain was the worst in his arm; it didn't matter what else the man had done to him, the bruises, the cuts…a bruised rib or two somewhere in there. The treatment hadn't been light, but on the other hand Greg hadn't been such a willing victim either. The more time that passed, the more strength that he gained._

--

Where was she going, did she even know? The FBI had appointed a specialist in fixing her up, portraying her as some china doll. It was sickening for Sara, who walked with a steady pace down the sidewalk, her heels grinding into the pavement. Click…click….click….

--

Sixteen victims including Greg; it would mark a new all time high for a serial killer, especially for one who was so new. But then again, he wasn't exactly new. He had been the hottest lead for almost a year now, and his plans dated back for even years before. He was well practiced, a silent expert.

--

_It was burning, throbbing…a life all its own. He could taste copper…he was bleeding again. Or had he ever stopped? A groan managed to escape somehow, as he tried to raise his head, tried to pull enough air into his lungs. He was suffocating ever so slowly…_

--

They didn't even know if the killer was here, if he was stalker her. Or if the person they would catch, if anyone, would be him. It was a weak plan, one that was thrown together at the last minute. Sara had little confidence in it, maybe because she knew it wouldn't work, or maybe because she didn't want it to. At this point, she wasn't sure anymore.

--

Turning through the pages he came to a stop, noticing one thing that was in common. 11225 Jensen Street….11225 Jensen Street…11225 Jensen Street…the same mailing address on each paper. The murdered victims had all taken place on the front page, and each clip about their deaths still had the address clearly labeled.

--

_Had it been hours, or had it been days? There wasn't any notion of either case. Greg could barely think anymore. His body was giving up, he had long ago stopped sweating, long ago stopped breathing normally. He couldn't get enough air…his vision was swimming, even though his eyes were closed. All he wanted to do was to say goodbye…but it seemed as though he wasn't going to get that chance._

_

* * *

_

"All the articles, at least the killings, came from the same paper," Nick informed her quickly, working to pull his jacket on as he walked down the hall. Catherine had him matched, stride for stride.

"Well, that limits it down to only hundreds of possible people," she stated sarcastically.

"They all had the same mailing address."

"What kind of paper is labeled with addresses?" she asked after a quiet moment of consideration.

"A paper that not everyone gets," he nodded to her, a grin spreading across his face. "All Your Time is a specialty paper; you have to pay extra to get it. Changes from area to area, covering more local news."

"That doesn't mean it's our guy," Catherine warned him as they worked their way outside.

Nick already had keys in his hand, even before reaching the Denali. "It's a house, it might be a lead. Who knows, maybe he was stealing them off the porch, but that means he had to be close enough to do so continuously. Besides, our victim, Mitch Anderson, had a record for petty impersonations. Newspaper companies have been getting complaints on him for going around posing as a reporter."

"And with all our victims already being interviewed by several companies, one more didn't seem like such a hassle," Catherine added, having caught on now as she climbed into the front seat. "It would also explain how he was able to get close to his victims without causing suspicion."

"Or a struggle," Nick nodded, pulling out into oncoming traffic. "You get a hold of Brass yet?"

"He's meeting us there," she answered in response, letting out a low breath. "Hopefully he hasn't skipped town on us yet."

* * *

It had taken a matter of minutes. Quite literally. They had arrived at the scene a short time before Brass and the others. Before they had even gotten to the front door, the suspect had fled. Nick had been after him, but it was another officer that took him down, nearly a block away. Now he was here, and Grissom didn't waste time for introductions.

Anyone who fled a potential crime scene was a prime suspect. He didn't quite fit the profile for a deadly killer, but at the same time it was hard to judge anyone. Killing was an action, not a look. So appearance alone would not be able to tell them much.

Prints, DNA, fingernail scrapings, they all had been processed, the man hardly resisting once knowing he hadn't a choice in the matter. The results had come back promising, or as promising as you could want in such a case.

"Where's Greg?" There wasn't anytime for foreplay, they needed to know, and the sooner, the better.

The man raised an eye, watching them with a surprised expression. "Who?"

Grissom slapped the picture on the table, sliding it forward so he could see. To the man's surprise the suspect laughed, leaning back in his chair as he did so. "Ah yes, I remember him. So much fight…"

"Where is he," Grissom cut him off, his tone firm.

"He's dead."

From behind the window Nick gave a start. Part of him had always had hope, even with the daunting reality setting in. After all, why would he keep Greg alive? There was too much to risk.

"You're lying," Grissom declared.

A chuckle escaped the man's lips. "You've known me all of thirty seconds and you can tell me when I am and am not conveying the truth."

"If he was already dead then you wouldn't mind telling us where his body was."

To that Nick let out a sigh. It was true enough; most serial killers wanted their work to be found. The only thing that remained hidden were mistakes. Mistakes they couldn't afford to be found.

"The job's not finished yet," Smith replied smugly, turning away.

"If you talk…" Grissom had started, but was cut off soon after.

"I'm going to jail Mr. Grissom. I'm going to get the death penalty. Nothing I say or do is going to change that. Besides, an artist never reveals his work. Just consider it my masterpiece…"

"We're not going to get anything off this guy," Catherine muttered quietly, drawing Nick's attention away from the interrogation. Sadly the Texan nodded, closing his eyes.

"I'm going back out to the scene."

"I'm right behind you," she nodded, holding onto each word for emphasis.

**TBC..**


	35. Coming to an End

**One more chapter to follow after this, hard to believe it's almost done. Thanks for all the comments, they are, as you may know, my fuel. **

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Coming to an End**

It was nearly ninety out, the warm rays of the sun beating down on the open yard, the bare driveway, and the occupied house. It hadn't taken long for half the crime lab to show up in processing the scene, and even though it wasn't necessary there wasn't any argument otherwise. The scene itself was perhaps the largest one that year, and anyone would take the chance in taking part in processing it. Especially if it meant getting recognized by the FBI, or another force that was higher than the lowly crime lab.

For Nick, it wasn't any different. Another scene, another case. At least that's what he reminded himself. There was an unnerving feeling that kept on growing, and although he didn't want to believe the man's word, a deranged killer like that wouldn't keep a loose end untied. They were looking for a body…not a life. Nick was just afraid to believe it.

For most of the morning he had berated himself, it was a sad, sad thought to know that if they had been half a day quicker, that if maybe they had taken one less break…just maybe it would have been enough time to catch up with their killer. But the sad realization dawned on him…they hadn't caught up with the killer….Greg had slowed him down.

Greg was the one who had broken the case, and in what was probably his last defensive act he had somehow managed to get the knife outside of the building, a key piece off evidence. It had led them to the primary location, had led them to the accomplice, had led them here. The case now was coming to a close, the victims, the families, the friends could now rest peacefully, they could finally get solace in knowing that it was finally over.

Not for Nick however. The Texan could never rest easy. He was worried about Sara, afraid of what direction she would go from here. He was also concerned, like the others, about Greg…life for the man prior to moving out into the field had been simple, the largest setback being the lab explosion. Since then everything had gone downhill, the only thing that kept him going was Sara. When he lost that…he had lost himself.

It made matters worse for the Texan, knowing that their last words had been shared in anger. Thinking over it now he knew that he could have been easier on the kid, could have helped him out more. At the time Nick had only been thinking of his own concerns, of his worry over Sara. But in the end it had been like she said; it wasn't any of his worry.

Sometimes he got too involved; this would be one of those times. Nick couldn't help it though; he was too caring of a person. Just sometimes it was taken the wrong way. Of course his feisty temperament didn't help either. There was just only so long that he could stay patient. And he had crossed that point long ago with Greg.

Now he was filled with regret. He drew the back of his hand across his forehead, letting out a curse as he made his way across the grass. Nick was mostly afraid of how they would find him. He considered Sara lucky…it was easier to disappear, and show up when it was necessary. Struggling through the pain was the hardest task. Nick could handle it; he just wasn't looking forward to it.

Without a body they could always pretend, always wonder what had truly happened. Without a body nothing was truly answered. It could always be left open to speculation. Sometimes it was better that way, sometimes knowing the cold hard truth only made things worse.

The glint of the sun reflecting off the metal was his first clue that something was amiss. At first glance it seemed nothing more than a pile of tarps, but Nick knew that sometimes the most unobvious clues were the most needed. Lifting up the edge he could see that it was a car, an old run down vehicle, the hood missing, windshield cracked.

He pulled the rest of the material off in one motion, letting it fall to the ground as he stepped back. It indeed was a very old vehicle, sitting there for some obvious time, the paint cracked, chipping away. All four tires were flat, and Nick couldn't help but wonder what possible clues this piece could offer as he glanced into the windows, noting the stripped seats, stereo and other essentials of the car that were missing.

The surface of the car was warm; he could feel the heat through his gloves even as he moved around the back, coming to a rest on the trunk. It was locked, but the strange thing was the fact that the key was still inside…as though someone had left in a hurry…

His fingers rested on the key, before promptly turning it, pushing the worn lid open. Now he wished he hadn't, the smell alone was horrible, but the sight was even worse. Greg's still body occupied the small trunk, legs bent at the knees to allow him to fit evenly among the meager fit.

Nick drew in a breath turning away for a moment as he regained his composure. There was a clear stench of death, the same stench that had been found in the room. With a solemn sigh he turned back, reaching a hand in to brush along side the still face.

It was almost missed, the quiet groan that escaped from his lips around the ruffled gag, but the movement was not. Two fingers moved quickly down, pressing against his carotid artery, letting out a silent curse as he felt the steady pulse there.

"We need paramedics over here," he shouted, barely glancing up at his surroundings. His gaze instead was focused on Greg, whose eyes had opened a hair, as if barely lucid of the situation around him.

He reached into his back pocket, pulling out the small switchblade he kept their routinely, flipping it open in one fluid motion. Even if Greg was unaware of his surroundings, he still flinched at the sound, turning his head away as his breathing quickened.

"You're okay," Nick reassured him lightly, also stating it for his own sake as well as he carefully slide the blade between the cloth and his skin, working to cut away the tightly bound gag.

The first breath he drew in was a large gasp, as if compensating for the ones he had missed earlier. His eyes were still tightly closed, his head turned to the front of the car as Nick moved his hand down the man's arm, letting out a frustrated sigh once finding his wrists were bound tightly together underneath the panting form.

"What's going on Nicky?" Catherine was jogging up to him, having heard his desperate cry, anxious to know yet frightened to find out at the same time. She came to a pause, watching as the Texan wrapped his arms around Greg's chest, working to lift him out.

Greg was helping, but it was clear that most his strength was gone, and Catherine filled in, grabbing a hold of his bound legs in order to swing him all the way out. They laid him down in the grass only a few feet away, already working on the ropes that still held him captive.

It was too good to be true, and none of it felt real, but Nick didn't pause in relishing in his feat, two fingers still tracking the ever racing pulse as Greg grabbed onto his arm desperately, shaking in his hold as he tried to slow his ragged breathing.

"Deep breaths man, deep breaths," Nick told him quietly, watching as Catherine sprinted across the yard to grab a bottle of water from an officer's hands. There was a crowd now, anxious to see what the commotion was about, but they held their distance as the blonde ran the length back, dropping to her knees next to him.

"Small sips," she warned, holding the open bottle up to his lips. He took the sweet comfort, his throat beyond dry and almost into the swollen aspect from the repetitive gasping he had done for so long now. Greg had wanted more, letting out a slight protest as she pulled the bottle away, using some of the liquid to wet the same small cloth that had been used for his gag the past several days.

The cool comfort was relishing against his heated skin, Greg closing his eyes as he adjusted to the feel of the outdoors, the slight wind that played. He was sure it was a dream; unable to determine how they found him, how they had known.

He wasn't even aware that he was crying, the tears unnoticed on his skin as Catherine was quick to wipe them away, wetting the cloth once again, a feeble attempt in cooling him down.

"He's still really warm," Catherine told Nick quietly, glancing up at the Texan who still held the shaking man. "How long do you think he was in there?"

"Long enough," came Nick's quiet response, already situating himself to help Greg sit up some. "Let's get his shirt off."

He barely had started when Greg batted him away, weakly supporting himself as ran a hand over his face. His breaths still came in short gasps, but he managed to pull the material over his head himself, dropping it into the grass as he nearly collapsed back on the ground again. Eyes still opened he waved off their worried concerns, his voice raspy as he tried to convince them he was okay.

He was okay…scared, yes. Warm, yes. Alive…a definite yes. He closed his eyes, drawing in a long deep breath, savoring the dry air, even if it only burned his dry throat more in the process.

A hand touched his arm then, over the still swollen flesh and puncture marks and Greg was quick to pull it away, glancing up at Catherine who watched him worriedly. "You need to have that looked at."

"It'll be okay." It hurt to talk, almost hurt to breath, but he was dealing with it.

"You don't have any idea what he gave you Greg," Nick started, the worry evident in his voice.

"Stonefish venom," he cut him off, his voice cutting in and out as he struggled to breathe. "Intermixed with sugar-water….he had a splendid time…telling me all that was going to happen…"

"That bastard," Catherine shook her head, running a hand through her hair. The sole reason why their only suspect wouldn't talk…he was waiting for the job to be finished. Granted it wasn't the same treatment all their other vics received, but suffocation wasn't exactly pleasant either.

"I didn't think…you guys would find me," he breathed slowly. He was much calmer now, granted giving the entire situation. "I didn't know…if you were even looking."

"Of course we were," Catherine scolded him, her tone matching that of Nicks, the pair slightly startled. "Why would you say something like that?"

"I've been such an ass lately…" he closed his eyes, sighing quietly. "I wouldn't blame…any of you."

"You had reason to be," Nick started, moving closer to the man to shade him from the heated sun.

Greg only shook his head, swallowing. "It doesn't matter what I was going through…none of you deserved that treatment."

"We'll discuss it later," Catherine cut in, moving to her feet shortly after giving his shoulder a quick squeeze. "First things first," she nodded over her shoulder, and Greg could glimpse two paramedics making their way through the fray, supporting a gurney.

Greg let out a short groan, already imagining the hospital display that would soon follow. He didn't want any part in it, and his eyes locked with Nick's as he was shaking his head. "I'm not going," he rasped.

"You need to be checked out," the Texan pressed, frowning as Greg shook his head again.

"At the very least let them look you over. If you don't have to go to the hospital, then you won't."

Greg closed his eyes, nodding quietly. It was the most he was going to get, and he was too tired to argue any longer. A hospital was the last thing he wanted, and as far as he was concerned he was done with them, done with them for a long time. All he wanted right now was to go home…

**TBC**


	36. Good to be Back

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Good to be Back**

Nick watched with nervous anticipation as the paramedics slipped the black blood pressure cuff over Greg's arm for the third time. Ten minutes had passed, and they had been able to move Greg from the grass to the back end of the aid car. During that time Nick had fetched a pair of coveralls, helping the young man change into them, before bagging the rest of his clothes. They hung loosely now around his waist, the clothing only covering his lower extremities, but Nick couldn't blame him.

Greg had still been warm when the paramedics arrived. Not warm enough to suggest any problems, but warmer than he or anyone else would have wanted. Granted, he had been locked in a trunk for who knew how long in the desert heat.

At least now he looked reasonably decent. His hair was matted from sweat, but the medics had taken time to clean his face and arms, all the while taking a closer look at his inflamed arm. They had given him a bag of ice, one that he had tried to keep on his arm to no avail, as the crew kept interfering, prodding and poking, recording their findings.

In the end Greg simply gave up, and now the melting pack dripped from the ends, over the railing and onto the ground. Nick moved in closer, once seeing the paramedics back off some. Greg barely acknowledged him, staring straight ahead.

"How are you feeling?"

This time Greg did look at him, his face passive, which made it hard to read what the young man was actually feeling. "I don't know…"

He crouched next to him, so that he was eyelevel with the seated man. "It would make us all feel better if you went," Nick nodded his head toward the unit, but Greg was already shaking his head. "Greg, just listen…"

"No," he cut the Texan off abruptly. "You listen. You have no idea what I just went through, and the worst of it? I got myself into that mess…I went along willingly just for the spite of it all. I was so stupid…"

"He got fifteen others the same way Greg," Nick informed him. "You weren't stupid…he was just crafty."

"He shot him," Greg muttered quietly, "He killed his accomplice, the one person he trusted enough to keep everything quiet, the one man he relied on to get the job done. Within mere seconds…there was no thought to it…he just did it."

Nick nodded, not having to ask who the 'he' even was. Their suspect, Mr. Smith aka John Lastings, was in custody; there wasn't a judge in the entire state that would let him walk. He could no longer cause any harm.

"I was...I don't know...horrified to watch it happen...I know it's strange, but I can't help but feel...sorry...for Mitch. I mean...I know what he did...to everyone...and how...but I just feel...I don't know...I guess I'm not making much sense." Greg ended with a nervous chuckle as he looked up towards Nick, "I can't really explain it..."

"Hey…you watched the man murder someone in cold blood. The same person that still had you captive. You had reason to be afraid."

"It was worse, sitting there and knowing what was going to happen."

Nick nodded, knowing how the mind could play games. Sometimes not knowing what was going to happen was horrid, but in this case, knowing had to have been terrifying. "When did you start to remember?"

The issue hadn't been brought up much in the last half hour now. Greg was reluctant to speak of it seemed like, but then again it could be due the trauma he had endured. Surely the man's stress level was clear off the charts.

"I don't know really," Greg confessed, shifting to face the Texan some more. "I just sort of…remembered. Here and there…it wasn't like, bang, I remember. More of…a dull realization that I already knew that."

"You were lucky," Nick told him quietly, "and smart. If you hadn't gotten that knife out the window…"

"I wasn't thinking," Greg laughed, closing his eyes. "I was just doing. I figured that I was going to die, might as well go down fighting, right?"

Nick nodded, smiling. "You did good."

They both looked up however as another car pulled up to a stop, the occupants piling out quickly. Nick had called Grissom shortly after the paramedics arrived to relate the good news, and he turned back to the timid man with a smile. "You've got visitors."

He was starting to leave, but Greg caught his wrist, stopping him for a moment. "Don't tell Sara," he muttered quietly, his gaze flicking briefly between him and the approaching brunette. Nick gave him a questioning look, but nodded, trusting the CSI as he left, meeting the small group halfway there.

"How is he?" Grissom asked, wasting no time in getting down to business.

"Cuts and bruises mostly," Nick nodded, "twenty stitches to his palm, and they wrapped his hand as well. He's running a little warm, a bit dehydrated, and there's no telling when he last ate, but he is coherent, and responding well to treatment."

"Can I…we see him?" Sara breathed, hardly daring to take her eyes off Greg's form. Through the tears, the misery she had spent, walking in front of that news store, everything had been brought to a screeching halt as Brass pulled up, informing her of the breathtaking news. The entire way she hadn't been able to stop shaking, hadn't been willing to believe it. Even seeing him there now…it wasn't enough. She needed to be near him, needed to touch him, hold him. Reassure herself that this was real, that it wasn't just some dream mocking her subconscious wants.

"You go on," Grissom assured her once Nick had nodded.

Sara didn't protest, walking across the pavement with bare feet. She hadn't time to change from then to now, but at least she didn't have to put up with the painfully tight shoes. Greg lifted his head as she approached, and she stopped just short of him, kneeling down in the same manner as Nick had been only minutes before.

"Hey…" she chocked out the soft word, her voice nearly breaking. The entire ride over she had thought of what she was going to say to him, what she was going to ask…but now that she was face to face with him she couldn't even form a coherent sentence.

Greg returned her weak smile with one of her own, letting out a breath. "You uh…you look nice," he swallowed lightly, "one of the few times I've seen you in a dress. What, you couldn't wait until I was officially dead to party?"

She winced at his words, dropping to her knees as her hands clutched the thin material that covered her. "It's a long story," she responded quietly, trying to forget what he had just said… "Just don't…don't say things like that…"

"I'm sorry," Greg apologized quickly, knowing that he had crossed the line. He reached out to take her hand, and it must have surprised her because she jumped slightly at the contact. "I just don't want you to worry…"

"You're shaking," she muttered quietly, closing her hands around his one. She had ignored his last statement, glancing up to watch him.

"Yeah," Greg nodded; he knew that he had been for quite some time now. "Sort of like after the lab explosion…"

"You weren't this bad then," she shook her head. "I would have noticed…"

Greg only grinned as she glanced up at him quickly, amazement shining in her eyes. "You remember?"

He nodded, still holding the warm smile he had offered up.

"How much?"

"A lot…" Greg admitted, shifting then. "I guess…it's there, but fuzzy still. I can't remember a lot that's happened…I mean the accident and all. I know it did, but I don't remember it, or the time in the hospital."

Sara reached up then, brushing her hand against his cheek with a longingly smile. "Do you remember…us?"

His only response was a smile, as he pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her frail form. He could feel her crying, the wet tears landing on his bare neck and shoulder, her body shaking almost as much as he was. Greg held her tight, burying his face into her hair. "God Sara…I thought that I'd never get to see you again…"

"I knew it," she breathed softly, choking back a sob. "I knew that you'd come back…I couldn't stand the thought of not having you. I love you so much…"

"I love you too," he whispered, still holding he close. It was the very phrase she had been waiting forever to hear, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, afraid that if she let him go, he would once again disappear. But it was clear, as he rubbed her back soothingly, this was no dream, and that he was here to stay.

* * *

"One coffee?" Nick wondered, handing the menu over to Catherine who set it on top of the others.

"Two," Greg cut in, his attention on the nearly healed scar on his hand. He was picking intently at it, flexing it briefly before scratching at it lightly. Sara's hand on his wrist stopped him, and he let out a low whine, pulling away.

"It itches," he complained, curling his fingers into a fist.

"It's not going to heal if you keep doing that," Sara reminded him firmly, settling her elbows on the table.

"Cortizone would help that," Grissom cut in, studying the younger man. He looked quite a bit better, most of the bruises and cuts healing within the last passing week. Greg's spirit would suggest otherwise.

The man had been trying to fall back into routine, but it was difficult. The experience had taken a toll on him, and not just physically. To make matters worse the press had come out in full force, bombarding the ex-lab tech with each and every passing moment that was possible.

Through this time Sara had been his forte, reminded him that he didn't have to talk. Retelling the horrific ordeal once had been enough for him, and the coming weeks weren't going to be any easier on him.

News had spread quickly around the lab of Greg's recovery, and the man was simply trying to live up to what everyone expected of him, and mentally, it was exhausting him. Greg however, cracked a smile as he gripped his cup, taking a careful sip.

"Will it help erase the nightmares?"

There was no response, the question hanging in open air. It was an uncomfortable topic, and it was Grissom who once again responded before letting the situation get too far out of control. "Therapy would…for the both of you."

"We talked," Sara interjected quietly, "And we're considering our options…"

"That tox screen finally came back," Warrick mentioned, eager to change topics now. "It was stonefish venom."

"I could have told you that," Greg made the snide remark. "Oh wait, I think I did."

There were numerous chuckles across the table, but it was cut short as Grissom spoke up once again. "If Lastings medical knowledge was better he would have known to give you a more concentrated dosage. With your treatment in the hospital, your system has built up an immunity to sedatives."

"Well, I'm grateful that he didn't do all his homework then," Greg put in, taking another sip. "What do you think he'll get?"

"Life," Grissom answered casually, "In the very least. We're pushing for the death penalty though. Once you give your statement, that'll be enough…"

To this Greg didn't respond, lost somewhere in his cup of coffee, seemingly trying to disappear behind it. Grissom noted his discomfort, quickly offering up the other option.

"You can choose to do a deposition Greg, that way you wouldn't have to face him in court."

Greg shook his head quickly, looking up at him. "I can…after all, someone has to speak up for all those who can't…right?"

Sara's comforting hand on his shoulder was a gentle reminder that he wasn't alone in this, and he gave her a reassuring smile. "If anyone can do this, then you can."

"There's still months," Nick reminded him as well, "before the trial will take place. It's not like we're expecting you to go tomorrow."

"And if you need help," Catherine spoke up now, "all you need to do is ask. We're here for you, one hundred percent of the way."

"I'll tell you," Greg responded with a calm smile. "It's wonderful knowing such wonderful people. I don't know how to thank any of you enough…"

"It's what friends do Greg," Warrick cut in, nodding towards him.

Grissom pulled out his pager as it went off, reading the message with a frown. "I've got a db at the Mirage, Catherine you're with me. Nick and Warrick you two have a double at the landfill."

"What about us?" Sara questioned, speaking up as the others started to gather their stuff.

"It's your night off," Grissom indicated to the pair, "Enjoy it."

She was about to protest, more than anxious to get back into the flow of work, especially with Greg at her side, but her words were cut short as lightning lit the sky, followed by a roar of thunder. Within seconds the clear night had opened up into a steady downpour, soaking the earth.

"You wanna trade?" Nick wondered, laughing as his offer was shot down by her icy glare. She was now grateful to be going home.

Now alone she turned back to Greg to find him staring out the window, her gaze following his to see what he found so intriguing. "There's nothing quite like a summer rainstorm to end the day, is there?"

She rubbed his back gently, moving up to lean her head on his shoulder shortly after pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Let's go home."

**The End **

* * *

**And so it ends…hard to believe. Well not really, seems like this has been going on forever. **

Yes, there is a Sequel, but I won't start posting it until next month, because face it, I'm going to be gone for the last half of this month, and it's pointless to start a new story and leave you hanging. Although if I get many wonderful bribes, I might start it early. Motivation is a wonderful thing after all.

**Upcoming story:**

**Faraway Dreams**

**Happily ever after seemed so far away, especially at a time like this. Questions of trust and loyalty arise when a new threat interferers in Greg and Sara's life. Along with that comes new dangers as an old case resurfaces, bringing to light memories that should have been forgotten. **


End file.
